Surreptious
by inks
Summary: A young vampire falls head over heels for a human girl, but his attempt to woo her turns out to be a complete failure! How far will he go to gain her heart knowing she can never be his?
1. Chapter 1: Not According to Plan

**The names are completely fictional - products of my fancy. **

**This chapter is a taster for those you who are interested! Please Read and Review if you wish for me to update!**

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Chapter 1: Not According to Plan

Despite the blatantly obvious, human beings are creatures with a high tendency to hold to their conventional and preconceived ideas. Vampires live among people, and that is the truth. Their dazzling appearance and charisma easily impel them into positions of wealth and influence. They can do just about anything perfectly: sing, dance, perform, laugh - anything. Yet, people continue to feign obliviousness.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a young pure-blood vampire of the antediluvian von Chatillon family. Beaux, as he was called, was the successor of his father's company. And through such business matters, he met an entrepreneur, Mr. Lavoirsier.

No on can quite capture the shock that Mr. Lavoirsier received when he first came face to face with the youthful, dashing Beaux von Chatillon. Beaux had held his hand out, expecting the usual gestures of salutation, but Mr. Lavoirsier was so taken aback by Beaux's presence that this small detail went unnoticed. Almost six feet in height, Beaux towered over Mr. Lavoirsier. The old man was amazed; how could anyone look so inhuman? Beaux was a breathing painting. Every aspect and angle of his character was clearly defined and honed to perfection. His emerald eyes and ethereal-blonde hair only heightened the overall effect of seraphic splendor.

Once he had overcome Beaux's presence, Mr. Lavoirsier returned to his normal chipper self and began to commence his oration on his ideas for the company alliance. Beaux, Mr. Lavoirsier noticed, was quiet, courteous, and reasonable throughout the entire ordeal.

Mr. Lavoirsier was a light-hearted and lively man, who never really took to the stifling conditions of normal business meetings. Knowing his partner was but a young man, Mr. Lavoirsier casually suggested the notion of a less formal get-together. And so, the two arranged a meeting over dinner, and Beaux accepted the invitation to the Lavoirsier manor.

True, Beaux found Mr. Lavoirsier's request rather odd, but he found no harm in staying for a brief moment. As we all know, vampires must feed upon the blood of humans in order to exist. Although they need not feed daily, a tempting morsel is difficult to resist - even for the most tractable vampire. Our protagonist was confident; neither Mr. Lavoirsier nor his middle-aged spouse would pose such threat.

* * *

The sixth hour past noon was drawing near and the florid sky began to ebb into overwhelming darkness. When Beaux rang the doorbell, which resonated from the inside in lethargic tolls, he was greeted by Mr. Lavoirsier and his wife. Beaux bowed to Mr. Lavoirsier and then turning to Mrs. Lavoirsier graciously took her hand and brushed it faintly against his lips. She giggled childishly and blushed with a deep crimson color before dragging another figure from the shadows. Against Beaux's expectations, he found that the couple had a young daughter, named Meliah. 


	2. Chapter 2: Wheels in Motion

Chapter 2: Wheels in Motion

Vampires are devious creatures by nature, and when Beaux laid eyes on the girl, his original resolution was breached. _Perhaps_, he thought, _I can allow myself a single indulgence_.

* * *

If he had to be completely frank, he would probably say that Meliah was not a particularly stunning person in appearance, but she did have blossoming potential. She was tall and had a slender frame. Her eyes, though lacking any vivid coloring, were piercing and brimming with a powerful ulterior emotion. Beaux caught her gaze for a brief moment before he quietly contented himself with staring at the biblical décor upon the walls. Even so, he could see her small, doll-like face from the corner of his eye. Her dark hair cascading down to her waist was intricately studded with crystal flowers; Beaux could see that she had put some diligent effort into her assemble and mentally made a note to compliment it later. 

Beaux could not ignore the fact that she was still an adolescent. He could detect the faint traces of blemishes on her ivory forehead and cheeks that were perhaps beginning to heal. The whole image, nevertheless, was unspoiled and pure. Girls like her, he knew, had the most delicious blood. He broke out of his brief reverie as Mr. Lavoirsier led him to the dining hall. Meliah kept keeping her hands tucked away in the folds of her satin gown. Beaux knew she did not want him to kiss it and for some strange reason, he found that rather adorable.

Dinner became a fascinating experience for Beaux. Meliah, who, despite his first impression, was exuberantly loquacious and humorous, enraptured him. Her spontaneity and questions kept him speaking more than he ever had before. Her voice was amazingly melodious, and she used the right inflictions in pitch and tone at the exactly right moment. Something about the way she exaggerated her gestures and expression kept Beaux clinging to every word, and he did want her to stop. His former desire for blood was eradicated from his mind. This girl would not become his prey, but perhaps something more…

To Beaux's delight, he and Mr. Lavoirsier were unable to complete all the necessary paper work for their business deal. This time, Beaux did not hesitate to invite Mr. Lavoirsier and his family to visit his lovely chateau. Mr. Lavoirsier, of course, agreed.

* * *

Finally relieving his anticipation, the Lavoirsier family arrived to Beaux's home at night. Upon entering, they were stunned by the beautiful architecture and unique relics. Beaux was amused and pleased that Meliah seemed thrilled by the mystery of the chateau. He invited her to look around anywhere she pleased. On second thought, he did not believe that wise. He warmed her that the third floor was under renovation and under no condition to be ventured. She looked suspicious at this new restraint but did not hesitate to leave her father and mother to their more formal, business-related matters. 

Beaux was blatantly anxious to conclude the business meeting, and hurriedly gave Mr. Lavoirsier the papers to read over and sign. After that was over with, Beaux had the butler give Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier a tour of the immense gardens. He also suggested that they enjoy a quiet, moonlit dinner, alone. Flattering the two and their romantic courtship, he convinced them to leave their daughter unattended. _She will be fine_, they agreed.

Beaux found himself running through his home, looking for Meliah. He heard a gentle melody drifting through the hallway. He found the girl sitting in the dark music room, her eyes intrigued by the dancing figures inside a rococo music box and her lips humming its familiar tune. He smiled to himself and was highly amused by her childish fancies. He tried to regain his composure; he did not want to look as though he had been seeking her – it had to look like a mere coincidence. But despite his valiant attempts, he could not help sounding breathless. He caught her by surprise but she courteously straightened her posture and complimented his possessions. He was stunned by her formality. He did not want to feel like they were simply acquaintances.

So he tried to ease the tension by asking her questions. She answered, as he so hoped, with enthusiasm about what interested her. She playfully concluded with the fact that she was pleased that there was no sign of insects, which she detested above death itself. Beaux could not help but laugh and she is surprised by his reaction. "I don't believe it was that hilarious," she said, almost to herself, but his smile was so endearing that she felt suddenly close to this stranger.

"Do you like my music box?" Beaux asked, noticing how her eyes and fingers kept straying toward its ornate cover.

"Yes, I've never seen anything so beautiful before. I like the song too," she said quietly.

"I want you to have it," Beaux said after a brief pause. It was true. He wanted nothing more than to please her if he could.

"Really?" she questioned incredulously. Beaux chuckled softly as he came over to the music box and handed it to her. She did not try to reject his offer as he had expected. Her eyes brightened as she clasped her small hands on either side of the box.

"Of course. On one condition," he said. She looked so surprised that Beaux laughed out loud. Meliah's confounded expression was absolutely precious; Beaux only hoped his memory would do her justice. "Don't worry," he finally finished, "just promise to think of me when you play it. Simple enough?"

"Yes! I will take great care of it," she answered happily.

Beaux offered to give her the official tour of the house, and although she reluctantly admitted that she has scrutinized the whole area, she agreed excitedly when Beaux told her there are secret passages and trapdoors. He offered her his arm and she looked suddenly wary, as those questioning his motives. Beaux found himself hurt once again by her suspicion so he carefully coaxed her. "I don't bite…" he said quietly as he looked deeply into her dark eyes, "hard." He thought this was extremely ironic – him being a vampire and all. A small smile escaped his lips, making his features so much more alluring.

She finally broke her stoic façade and laughed at his attempt to cheer her. Hearing her laugh like that made Beaux's heart soar, and he smiled more beautifully than ever. She casually entwined her arm in his as though she did this every day, and the touch of her bare skin made Beaux's who body tingle. He thought his skin might singe.

He showed her the staircase behind the bookcase that led up to a private balcony. The two of them watched the stars, winking at them superfluously from the black sky. Beaux expertly pointed out the constellations. She was gradually frustrated when she could not recognize any on her own. She let out a prolonged sigh and leaned further out across the balcony's ledge. Fearing for her safety, Beaux quickly grabbed her waist. Meliah snapped around and looked at him with what seemed like fear. She stepped away from the ledge and Beaux dropped his arms limply at his side.

"I'm so sorry," Beaux began, "I feared you might fall. These edges are not built to withstand much weight." His voice was faltering; she had seemed so afraid of him.

"Are you implying that I'm heavy?" Meliah inquired with a metallic tone. She glared at him with her bright eyes and put her hands on her hips.

Beaux was shocked. He had never meant to offend her. "Absolutely not!" he exclaimed, "How could I ever dare to? No! Never!" He could barely get a sentence through.

Meliah's burst of laughter stopped him in his tracks. She was laughing so hard she fell over on the balcony floor clutching at her sides. Beaux, though flustered, rushed over and gathered her in his arms just in time to cushion her landing. It took him a few seconds before he realized what an awkward position they were in. Meliah, still unaware, was giggling hysterically in his lap.

Still at loss to what the mania was about, Beaux gazed at her hopelessly. She was adorable. A sanguine hue was rapidly dominating her small face and Beaux began to worry for her health. Meliah seemed like she could hardly breathe.

"Your face is turning very red," he murmured softly - not wanting to offend her again.

"It is?" she managed to choke out between her spasms of laughter. She began fanning herself and taking deep breaths.

"What was so amusing?" Beaux asked, hoping not to sound bitter. It did not work though. Meliah's face paled instantly and she looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, all hints of her previous glee gone, "I wasn't trying to be rude."

"No, no-" Beaux insisted putting a cold fingertip to her warm lips to stop her from continuing, "I just wanted to know what had made you so - cheerful."

"Mr. Beaux," she began.

"Just call me Beaux," He interrupted.

"Yes then, Mi- I mean, Beaux," she said, "You seemed so serious! Your expression was timeless! I was only kidding. Although, I _am_ very heavy - you were right to take precaution."

"Oh no, I don't think so Miss Meliah," Beaux said - relieved, "You look wonderful." He said that last part with such sincerity, he feared she would catch the gist of his feelings. But she only blushed brilliantly and looked up into his eyes with a small smile.

"Thank you," she said softly. Beaux caught a glimpse of what looked like tears clinging to her lashes, but she turned away. And with that, Meliah pulled herself off of his lap. The two made their way downstairs.

* * *

As Meliah and her family came back to the entrance to leave, Beaux could not help feeling distressed. He quickly contemplated excuses in which he could lure her to him again, but none of these options were deemed feasible even in his creative mind. He finally decided he would contact her later. As he watched her dark silhouette against the darker backdrop of the night sky, he felt his heart throb excruciatingly. 

That night, he could not sleep because his thoughts were so far away. They were consumed by thoughts of Meliah. Unfortunately, he did not know as much as he would have liked to. His fantasies were rudely interrupted by long gaps of missing details. What was her favorite dish? Did she enjoy shopping? How did she manage to get her hair in such an elegant bun?

He wept bitterly as he wondered if she would ever love him back. He knew he was being extremely silly about this whole ordeal. Then, he realized he had never spilt tears over anything before.

Would she ever love him knowing what he truly was? He was not sure he wanted to hide being vampire, assuming it could be kept a secret. If he were to attain her love, he would do it genuinely.


	3. Chapter 3: And so It begins

**I apologize, it's a short chapter...**

* * *

Chapter 3: And So It Begins

Two agonizing days later, Beaux managed to find Meliah by herself at the local park. Although he could not deny that this was "pre-ordained," he convincingly pulled off what he thought was a look of pleasant surprise. She seemed delighted to see him as well and greeted him as though they were old friends. Beaux was impressed she remembered that he did not like formality. And at that moment, he stumbled upon a wonderful idea.

"Miss Meliah," he began. He let his flaxen-hued bangs hang slightly over his eyes and then bit his lip to signal confusion.

"Yes?" she asked, drawn by the mysterious tone in his voice. His trap was working.

"I have need of your advice – that is – the advice of a woman." Beaux knew her attention was caught. She smiled exuberantly, probably pleased that he saw her as a woman.

"Anytime," she said, "whatever for?"

"Well," he said with what he hoped was a shy, uncertain tone, "a couple days ago, I met a beautiful woman."

Meliah's eyes brightened. She knew she was being entrusted with a secret, and she was happy that he considered her as such a close companion. Beaux remembered from their conversations perfectly: she was easily amused, she loved daydreaming, and she always wanted to be _included_. Beaux's eyes caught the 'O' shape that Meliah made with her small, pink lips and grinned.

"Yes?" Meliah was trying hard not to sound so desperate for news.

"I was wondering about…about it," He purposely spoke slowly and tried to sound confused.

"Yes?" Meliah asked again. He could sense her impatience; it thrilled him astoundingly.

He concentrated on making his face look discouraged and lost. "When I am with her, I feel every nerve in my body rushing. Everything feels so…so alert. And when she's away, I…I feel so alone and distraught. My heart hurts," he said in something more than a whisper as his hand clutched where his heart should be. He wondered if he could squeeze out a tear or two. Meliah's eyes widened with understanding and sympathy.

"Mr. Beaux-" she began.

"_Please_," he said with such emphasis that he surprised himself, "I'm sorry - just call me Beaux."

Meliah seemed offended by his sudden sharpness but with his apology she softened again.

"Beaux," she said (just her saying his name was a pleasure!). "I think you are in love."

_Of course I am!_ Beaux thought, growing frustrated. _With you!_

"What should I do? Miss Meliah, I have never felt anything like this before. It's so..so…foreign." Beaux found himself saying with urgency.

"First, you must organize your feelings," she dictated expertly. Beaux wondered if she had ever been in love before and he grew angry with jealousy. "Why do you love her? Is it for who she is and not what she looks like?"

Her question intrigued him. And he feigned stupidity, just to hear her argue. "What do you mean?"

"I simply detest those men who fall blindly in love with women because they're beautiful or seductive! If you are in love with this woman because of those reasons, then she will never be able to make you happy!" she exclaimed vehemently. Beaux adored her response. She was as passionate as he expected she would be. "But you'll probably make her happy – if she is that superficial," she started, "because you're-" Meliah cut herself off, shocked by her own heated response.

"Because I'm what?" Beaux questioned. He was unsure if she was going to ridicule him or compliment him. Why did she stop? His startling green eyes sought hers. She did not make eye contact and turned her back to him.

"I'm sorry-" she began. Beaux could feel his heart aching to hear those words from her. He quickly walked ahead of her and lifted a finger to hush her.

He lifted her chin up to face him. "Because I'm what?"

"Because," she started with reluctance, "because you're handsome, charming, _and_ wealthy. You are what every girl wants." The last part seemed unintentional and because of that she quickly cast her eyes down. He was delighted.

"Why would you apologize for that?" He asked, his eyes twinkling.

"I didn't want it to sound as if you were manipulating any of those assets. You are not that type of person, Mr. Beaux. I know you would want someone to love you for who you are, not what you are."

"And what if I am trying to seduce this girl?" he challenged even though her reply was completely accurate. He only wished she knew.

"Mr. Beaux!" she admonished incredulously; the steely glint in her eye was almost realistic. She suddenly burst into laughter. "Well, I suppose it is not as though you're letting your talents go to waste. I don't believe it will be too difficult for a man of your caliber. So why exactly do you love this lady?"

Beaux marveled at her tendency to transition out of one subject to another. He realized that the true reason she cut herself off was because she did not want to sound star-struck by his presence. He congratulated himself for being so charismatic.

"She loves to talk and laugh. She smiles a lot and makes me feel like a person- equal in ever respect and not casually cast off. She is a joy and brightens the room with her presence. She is full of emotion. She's beautiful and perfect, but oh-so-flawed. She is passionate and is not afraid to say what she believes-"

"She sounds perfect," Meliah interrupted softly. Her eyes sparkled for they seemed to be filling with tears. Beaux eagerly wondered if his plan was going so well so quickly. _Was she jealous of losing me?_ He thought.

Meliah spoke once more with strength and yet subtly, "I have faith in you Mr. Beaux. You will be able to win this lady's heart and she will be so fortunate to have you."

_Is that so?_ He thought to himself.


	4. Chapter 4: Confessions

Chapter 4: Confession

"I have decided Miss Meliah. I will confess to the women I love tonight!" Beaux announced to his dark-eyed companion sitting next to him on the sofa. She looked up at him and gave him one of her darling smiles while nodding with approval. The two of them were enjoying a cup of tea in her room as they had been doing over the past month on the weekends. Beaux knew that Meliah loved these moments as much as he did. She did not have any close companions, and in Beaux's company she could tell stories, douse her sorrows, and confess her secrets with only acceptance.

At first, Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier were very protective of their daughter, flitting past her bedroom to catch snippets of their conversations. However, both were thoroughly convinced that Beaux was a perfect gentleman, who would, of course, never engage in any suspicious activity. Moreover, neither wanted to lose his favor; after all, he was wealthy, handsome, and courteous. If he was interested in their little girl, they would not deter him.

Beaux looked around the room and caught a glimpse of his music box sitting on her vanity. It was surrounded by bottles of every shade and necklaces of pearl and silver. He knew she adored the trinket and played with its melodies every day. It was several times he had come upon her, brushing her dark wavy tresses before the mirror and humming serenely. Those were times he wished he could capture, as a fisherman his prey.

The bed behind him was like everything else that furnished the room: trimmed with lace, gold, or ribbons. It was as if he were sitting in a rose-colored paradise, caught in the sick daydream of an eleven-year-old princess. Still, Beaux loved every aspect of it.

Her mirror reflected the two of them and Beaux realized that they were but an inch apart. The proximity thrilled him. Meliah's reflection was stirring her tea with a small spoon, unaware of the silent eyes watching her every movement. Beaux could see a thin scar running along the length of her pale arm. And even from that distance, he could see her lip, faintly dappled at the places she had bit during her episodes of anxiety.

He could do it, he thought. If he turned her into one of his kind…if he made her immortal…she would not be this way. Her appearance would become the epitome of flawlessness. He had the power.

But if he wanted to bestow his curse upon her, he would have to kill her first. After she had fallen, briefly, into the hands of cold, unfeeling Death, he would condemn her to his perpetual fate. Beaux shook his head furiously at the thought. He loved her with a purely human emotion. He loved her because she was human – both unspoiled and yet flawed. He could never, never murder Meliah let alone transform her perfection into a monstrosity.

His musing was cut short when he saw Meliah's radiant reflection lean toward him, naturally and elegantly. He tore his eyes off the mirror and looked at the original. She was holding a napkin in one hand and with her other hand, she tilted his face toward hers. Beaux was thoroughly disappointed when she simply wiped the corner of his lips. Nevertheless, his face flushed violently with color, only to make him more attractive.

"I know she will love you," Meliah said confidently, nodding her heading several times as to assert her belief as she once again reclined against the striped sofa. "Will you allow me to meet her some time?"

It was _too_ perfect.

"Of course! In fact," he said as he turned his body to face hers, "I want to show her to you."

"Really?" Meliah said. He could hear enthusiasm and excitement in her voice. His heart fluttered nervously.

"Close your eyes," he said coyly. He took up her hands in his, savoring the touch, and led her to the gold-framed mirror in her bedroom. He turned her body gently so that she faced the mirror completely; their full-length reflection gazed back at him. He stood behind her. "Now open them."

Meliah looked at the mirror in puzzlement and then turned her head to face the real Beaux. "What do you mea-"

But before she could finish, Beaux turned her face upwards and kissed her deeply on the lips. She was so warm – so wonderful. He could feel the euphoria spreading through his body, and his lovesick heart sang happily within his chest. His legs were numb and trembling, but his free arm instinctively wrapped around her waist. She did not return his kiss; her body was rigid as a board. And even in his inexperience, he could sense that something was not right.

In the mirror, Beaux could see that Meliah's eyes were wide with shock. Her expression jolted Beaux back into reality, and he stopped abruptly. Meliah crumpled to her knees as Beaux gently guided her way down. He could not help himself. He kissed her on her forehead tenderly, "I love you," he whispered affectionately. She looked at him with tears cascading from her eyes like jewels. It was so painful to watch. She looked so hurt. His eyes questioned her.

"Beaux," she choked through a sob. He was so bewildered. Did he make a mistake? Was she unsatisfied? He desperately tried to set the mood right. And without a second thought, he caught her lips once more and kissed with such passion Meliah seemed temporarily blown away. She twisted uncomfortably as if struggling to breathe. Beaux stopped reluctantly, and stared at her with regret in his green eyes.

"Meliah, is there something wrong?" he inquired tentatively, almost afraid of her response. She wailed into her small hands and her body shook ever so slightly with her heaving breaths.

"Mr. Beaux," she finally managed to say through her fountain of tears, "I'm…so…t-terribly so-sorry. I've been terrible to you… I - I…already have…someone….sp-special to me."

"Someone special?" Beaux repeated. He could hear the confounded stupidity in his own voice.

"Mr. Beaux," she started as she turned her mottled face to meet his, "I am so sorry….sorry..."

Her voice trailed off and Beaux was so disoriented he couldn't make out her meaning. She was crying so much that her eyes were turning increasingly pink and blotchy. Even so, Beaux found himself captivated by her beauty.

With a labored sigh she began anew, "I can not return your feelings. I have someone I love…Mr. Beaux…I'm so, so sorry. I was so foolish and so selfish and…and cruel. If I had known…Mr. Beaux, I didn't know…I never thought…oh…but if I had. I would have never… I'm so sorry…sorry." She was speaking so rapidly and breathlessly Beaux feared she may implode.

Beaux understood even though he tried desperately to shut out its meaning. She tried to say more but Beaux brought his pale fingertips to her lips and she choked her tears as she stopped. He didn't want to hear her apologize again; it was all his fault. She looked so dispirited that Beaux hated himself for causing the pain. He loved her so much. He could not imagine that another person could possibly love her the same way. A sharp crashing noise resounded in his mind. It was probably his poor heart, breaking and swiftly crumbling from the intensity of his agony.

"Will you let me?" Beaux asked. His eyes had lost all their sparkle and lay dying on his face. She looked up at them with concern.

"Anything," she said so earnestly that Beaux only wished he were not in this situation to enjoy it. She quickly took his hand in hers and began to stroke his palm with her delicate fingers.

"Let me stay at your side. Let me love you…Please… I can wait forever, Meliah, forever." He meant that last part very literally. Meliah's mouth opened and for a moment she seemed lost for words.

"No, Mr. Beaux. I don't want to cause you any grief; I am not worthy of your love. You know that! Just look at me! Any woman in this world can be yours… Mr. Beaux, I want you to be happy. I can not bring you that kind of happiness. Please, forget me." She let go of his hands as though trying to cut his affections.

Beaux was so torn by her words that he almost felt betrayed._ How could she think he was that kind of person? Did she honestly believe herself as replaceable with 'any woman in the world'? How could she ever think that he could simply forget about her? Just like that? How could he possible be happy knowing that his one reason for being was in the arms of another man?! _

"Miss Meliah, I will never forget you. Please, do not send me away."

Meliah looked lost for words and she began to weep pitifully. Beaux watched the tears once more but could not bring his immobilized limbs to assist her.

Then suddenly, he felt all his anger well up inside. He wanted to destroy and wreak havoc. He heaped the blame of Meliah's sorrow to her mysterious lover. He would not let that scoundrel take her away. He would tear the other man apart and toss the loathsome carcass into a fiery abyss. Meliah need not know…


	5. Chapter 5: Andante

Chapter 5: Andante

Beaux rushed out immediately when Meliah sent him the letter asking for his attendance. He met her on a busy street behind a tall building, casting its menacing shadow over the crowds bustling below. She stood out from a mile - a scintillating beacon in his compact world. Even in her dark, inconspicuous clothing, his eyes had been trained to recognize her figure from every angle. A lithe figure swathed in a russet coat and shawl, she gave his a wide smile as he came into view.

"You wanted me?" Beaux asked as he stopped in front of her.

"I wanted you to meet Andante," she answered excitedly.

"Where is he?" he asked, scanning the streets ferociously. There were some stores and a few vendors, but Beaux could not find anyone who caught his interest. He already had a preconceived idea of this so-called "Andante." _He will be monster_, Beaux thought, _an ugly, silly monster!_

"This way!" She grabbed his arm by the coat sleeve and quickly led him into a smaller road. Her pace was hurried and sporadic as she weaved her ways through the stores and alleys. He found it difficult to pay attention; he was simply ecstatic that she was touching him. Ever since that fateful day, Meliah had kept her distance as if to discourage him from getting closer. But little did she know that Beaux was so madly infatuated with her that no amount of discouragement could deter him.

The two of them came upon the entrance of a shabby, dilapidated vendor. Beaux did all that he could to disguise the disgust and contempt on his face. Meliah peered timidly inside, but when a clutter of metal resonated on the concrete, she grabbed Beaux and hid behind a large, wooden crate.

Then, Beaux saw him. A young boy appeared from the darkness of the vendor canopy and looked around as if looking for someone. It had to be _Him_. But this image did not correspond to Beaux's figment. Andante was tall and lean, but his stance was that of a powerful man. His ebony black hair came past his shoulders and was tied in a ponytail that still left loose hair to frame his thin, slightly angular face. His dark eyes pierced his surroundings just as Meliah's did, but his eyes had a hard metallic sheen that Meliah had replaced with exuberance. In contrast to his apparent penury, there was an aura of elegance and dignity in his character that Beaux could not grasp.

Beaux became extremely self-conscious at that moment and sought, in vain, for an object of reflection. His hand jumped his white-blonde hair and haphazardly combed it with his long fingers. But for a moment, Beaux was relieved. Andante was nothing more than a normal human boy. He could not compare to Beaux's godly manifestation.

Meliah jumped up from behind the crates and waved at the boy. Beaux saw Andante flash a dazzling smile and sprint over. Beaux slowly stood up next to Meliah, determined to outshine his rival. Andante looked quizzically at Beaux but did not seem alarmed or even, as Beaux hoped, threatened.

"Andante!" Meliah called as she grabbed his hand. Beaux could feel his eyes burning with the intensity of his own glare. Andante came a smooth halt and shamelessly kissed her smooth cheek. She blushed furiously and gently brushed him aside, but, Beaux noted, she did not look displeased. At this point, Beaux had to grab the side of the crate to stop himself from attacking Andante. He could feel his fangs sharpening menacingly behind his lips. _That wretch dares?_ Meliah's wide eyes met Beaux's. She looked so apologetic Beaux felt guilty for losing his composure.

"This is my _best_ friend," she emphasized 'best' with an almost cutting tone and moved closer to Beaux, "Mr. Beaux."

Andante gave him a smile and said in a startlingly angelic voice, "I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Beaux."

Beaux was so shocked by Andante's voice. As Meliah had said, it was enchanting. It was neither too deep or femininely high, but a medium pitch that seemed to vibrate every molecule in Beaux's body.

"Of course not, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Andante," Beaux replied coolly.

"I'm being a hindrance again! Your work!" Meliah suddenly exclaimed with a little jump. She turned to Andante and grasped the hem of his sleeve with her porcelain hands. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think of that!"

"No! Never," Andante said reassuringly as he pulled an arm around Meliah's shoulders and drew her closer, "I can always spare time for you."

Beaux wondered how his stomach was possibly functioning at a moment like this. Any moment, the contents of his lunch and perhaps breakfast would start retracting into his throat! Meliah would never fall into that loathsome trap of clichés!

Once again, Meliah look penitent and gave Beaux a glance asking for his forgiveness. He returned to her imploring eyes, a small, affectionate smile, which he was sure Andante saw as well. Meanwhile, Meliah looked very relieved but still made a heroic attempt to wiggle out of Andante's hold. Andante looked at her sadly in an emotion that Beaux sympathized with. A strange and awkward silence draped over the trio like a heavy blanket. Beaux never took his eyes off of Andante, who continued to gaze at Meliah's face with worry and understanding.

Meliah made a sudden commotion of the purple mulch that was stuck to the sole of her boots. Spurning the need for accompaniment, she walked into a nearby store to find a restroom. Beaux and Andante were left alone.

"What is your relationship with Meliah?" Andante asked as soon as Meliah was out of earshot. His tone had changed so drastically that Beaux was caught unawares. Andante's eyes were scrutinizing and cold as they glazed Beaux from top to bottom.

"I'm a close friend of hers," Beaux said in a tone equally as demanding.

"Is that so? You aren't hiding any secret motives?"

"Why would I have a motive? I came here with Meliah, you saw so yourself!" _Ah, so the oaf does have a brain after all_, Beaux thought. _I was not attempting to shield anything from this silly ass anyway. _

"Meliah is uncomfortable being herself in your presence," Andante retorted.

"What ever do you mean?"

"Why should she have to watch everything she does? _Please_, don't feign innocence. I know you know. Every time I get close to her, she backs off, feeling sorry for you!"

"Feeling sorry? Excuse me, but I don't need her pity and she knows that better than you do," Beaux said icily.

"No," Andante began, slowly and rather dangerously, "she knows that you are unhappy being around us. She feels responsible. I know you're not _just_ a friend, as you claim to be. Meliah is a kind person. She doesn't want to hurt you, _Mr. Beaux_."

"Thank you, _sir_, for being so considerate," Beaux began, "But I'm not sure I like your tone. Are you perhaps suggesting that I'm involved in some illicit relationship with Miss Meliah?"

"And if I am?"

Beaux did not know how to answer. If he had his way, he would have jumped at this generous opportunity to declare his love – just to see Andante squirm with anger and embarrassment. Yet this was the man that Meliah loved. If she loved this fool…and if Beaux loved her…he could not sabotage that relationship. Meliah meant so much more.

Beaux's mind was racing rapidly and he finally snapped back to reality when he tasted warm blood in his mouth. He had been biting his tongue with such pressure to keep himself from saying anything that he had pierced the pink flesh.

"Meliah and I are simply friends," Beaux finally managed (he could never in a thousand years imagine how terrible it was to lie), "Nothing…more…"

The last part which Beaux uttered made his heart twinge with pain: a deep wound torn open, tearing the sinews, splattering the blood and nerves, and finally scrubbing it with a fistful of salt.

Despite his desperate endeavor to subdue it, his anguish must have crept unto his expression for Andante's eyes softened. Beaux clenched his eyes shut and massaged his temples with his white hands. The stress was immense!

"That's all I wanted to know," Andante said after watching Beaux intently. He still looked annoyingly sympathetic, and Beaux wished for nothing more than to wipe that stupid expression of Andante's face.

The two remained silent until Meliah returned – confused by the mounting tension and wondering what had transpired in her absence.


	6. Chapter 6: Feeding

Chapter 6: Feeding

Andante's employer, a portly gentleman, insisted they leave the vendor if they were not interested in purchasing any of the goods. The man flourished a paunchy hand at the array of boxes, jars, and other unidentifiable trinkets arranged in an eye-catching manner at the entrance. Meliah, embarrassed and terribly shy, told Andante she would see him later. And after glancing at Andante's steely grey eyes with some emotion between love and yearning, she turned and led Beaux away.

Beaux escorted a flustered, extremely apologetic Meliah back to her home. It appeared that the she deeply regretted ever introducing Beaux to Andante, and she was desperate to earn Beaux's forgiveness. She generously offered him to come inside and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea ("It's a special blend – truly the most _exquisite_ kind – imported directly from China!"), but he humbly declined.

Beaux was in a foul mood. He found himself retracing every movement he had ever made upon meeting Meliah. What could he have possibly done wrong?

On his way home, he encountered a very attractive young girl who was about Meliah's age. She was a head shorter than he was, slender, pale, and incredibly fragile. Her eyes were as blue as a cloudless sky and her hair as frantically golden as the rays of a feverish sun. She was far prettier than Beaux's Meliah, yes, but for all her beauty, she was not brilliant, scintillating, or exuberant. Beaux wrinkled his nose in disgust: she was so mediocre!

When she caught sight of Beaux's silhouette, she proudly tossed her yellow mane and stuck her dainty nose in the air. Strutting with an overly assertive posture, she attempted to pass him. He glanced at her indifferently, but she immediately stopped in her tracks, appraising his tall form from top to bottom with her azure gaze. Beaux knew she had fallen for him, but he did not want her.

He gracefully moved to circumvent her but was slightly surprised when she vigorously tossed her bag unto the concrete sidewalk. It banged awkwardly against the surface before rolling a few times. Beaux knew she was trying to get his attention. So he decided to humor her and knelt over to pick it up. She rushed over, apologizing for her "recklessness" (which she pronounced, "wecklessness" as though it were endearing) and made a very trying effort to touch his hand while reclaiming her bag. He smiled sweetly and assured her that no harm was done. She said he was so kind and asked if he would join her for a drink –as a token of her gratefulness. He declined. She pouted and slipped her hand in the crook of his arm.

Her scent of femininity overtook him, and it was as though he could see the blood pumping through the pale violet veins under her skin.

All sense of restraint had escaped his body. He accosted her, pushing her roughly against the wall of the narrow street. She did not even realize he had entrenched his long, gleaming fangs into the side of her neck. Laughing coyly, she unknowingly enjoyed the feast of her own blood. And within a few minutes, she was dead.

Beaux disposed of her hideous corpse in a strangled gutter by an abandoned apartment building. Already, her skin was shriveling and withdrawing from the raw flesh underneath. Wiping the excess blood from his lips with the cuff of his coat, Beaux strolled nonchalantly from the scene of the crime.

The moment he pushed through the stained glass doors of his mansion, he stopped in front of the enormous mirror that adorned the entrance. In its glossy depths, a tall, blonde adolescent stared blankly back with his emerald eyes. His alabaster skin contrasted sharply with the black suit he was wearing; he appeared to glow with a soft light, like some unearthly specter. Beaux noticed that his white shirt was splattered with scarlet blood, and his hand jumped to cover the atrocity. The thick, wet blood smeared over his palm.

"I am a monster," he whispered furiously to his frowning reflection, "I am a horrible, disgusting creature! How can I ever ask anyone to understand me?"

His reflection looked crestfallen; his pale golden bangs hanging desolately over his eyes as he cast his magnificent head down. An insane laughter escaped his cold lips, and he did not even pause to consider what had been so ridiculously funny.


	7. Chapter 7: Happy Birthday

Chapter 7: Happy Birthday

He arrived twenty minutes early, on purpose. Meliah looked splendid in a cascading rose-colored dress. Like the rest of the room, her attire was covered in some form of lace or ribbons. She fluttered toward him when he came through the door, showering words of thanks and gratitude for attending her birthday festivities.

"It is my pleasure," Beaux answered softly. He placed a glittering diamond tiara on her head and handed her a bouquet of crimson roses. She gasped in amazement before throwing her arms around him. "Happy eighteenth birthday, Meliah."

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" She beamed at her reflection in the silverware and gyrated slowly as to assess herself from every angle.

"I doubt it," Beaux replied before he could restrain himself, "_You_ are the most beautiful thing _I've_ ever seen. And I wish it was your birthday everyday so I can have some excuse to give you such gifts and adore you as though you were not special all the time."

She drew back immediately, almost thrusting him back. He looked at her sincerely, but_ her_ eyes had darkened dramatically. Her face was flushed with color – but whether it was from anger or embarrassment he could not tell. She made a sudden fuss about the arrangement of the candles in the garden and left him in the hall – empty and disappointed.

When the rest of the guests arrived, Meliah played hostess and walked between the groups, greeting and chatting mercilessly. She seemed determined not to encounter Beaux again that night. But as the music began and the guests abandoned their tables to dance, she was left fully unprotected by the company of others.

Before she could hurry into the kitchen, Beaux grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the ballroom. When the pianist began the waltz, a slow, tragically romantic piece by Chopin, Beaux led Meliah expertly across the floor, her feet plodding heavily.

"I am sorry," Beaux finally murmured after a long, awkward silence. "I-"

"I thought you had resolved _this_!" Meliah interrupted with an angry hiss, "I thought you had…that you had _organized_ your feelings." She said "organized" as though it were the not the word she was looking for. She glared at him with disdain, and he could feel his eyes watering from the intensity of her gaze. She shook her head a few times as though this turn of events was still too shocking to believe. He could not help but sigh.

"Did you honestly think I could throw my _heart_ out? Can you ever _comprehend_ how _difficult_ it was for me to feign indifference? Attempting to stop myself from wanting anything more than your friendship?" Beaux asked dramatically.

_No!_, his conscience bellowed, _you mustn't do this. You have to stop! If you don't, you will lose whatever bond you shared with her…You promised…Don't let her know… _

"My goodness, Beaux, listen to yourself! Why are you _trying_ to make me the antagonist? Why are you making me that wicked girl who does not care about the people she hurts? Beaux, I care about you – oh, please do not look at me that way – I really do! I do not want to hurt you. Never... But, we are friends, are we not?" She eyed him accusingly through a slick curtain of tears and let out a prolonged sigh. "I just cannot understand. I mean, why me?"

"There is not enough time in this universe or enough tongues or enough passion to even appraise the scope of your majesty, my _dearest_," Beaux let the word slide off his tongue, and he savored the feeling. "How do you measure the ocean with a teaspoon?"

Meliah blushed and attempted to mollify the vivid redness with the coolness of her fingertips. Beaux was a talented speaker; there was no doubt. Every word resonated and echoed in her ears.

"No," she spat reluctantly, "I love Andante, and I will always love him – and him alone!"

"You can love whomever you desire."

"What do you want from me?" She stopped dancing. He could see she was flustered by his sudden frankness.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Beaux answered serenely.

"Then why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed.

"I wish I could tell you," he whispered back. He moved even closer and gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand. She seemed at a loss at what to do. Beaux saw the confusion proliferating within her wide eyes. He slowly lowered his head until they were about an inch apart. He could feel her inhaling feverishly.

"Meliah?" a startling voice called. It was such a familiar sound! Meliah's pupils darted in the voice's direction, and Beaux watched as they expanded in bewilderment. He knew who it was.

Then instinct took over. Beaux's blood was screaming as it gushed, firing in the confine of his veins. His outspoken conscience now fell silent, and he could not stop. He pulled her into his embrace and brushed her forehead with feathery kisses.

Meliah opened her mouth as though to speak, but she was silent as her flailing hand made a futile attempt to stop the onlooker. Andante, with an unfathomable expression, turned around and disappeared into the cold night.

Time did not stop as Meliah believed it would; Beaux stood rigid, but otherwise sangfroid. Tearstained and heartbroken, she looked at Beaux murderously and said coldly, "Everything is my fault. And I should have known…I was being childish and selfish. I wanted your attention and your friendship. I didn't want to have to lose you. I've said this all before, but I didn't have the courage to pull through that time. But this is different! Beaux, you did that on purpose-" She was so pitiful, so convinced. "-You knew he was there."

Beaux could not find anything to say.

"I hate you," Meliah finally whispered. She was not making eye contact. He could only see the top of her head. A curtain of long, black hair obscured her eyes.

"You don't mean that!" Beaux found himself shouting. He grabbed her shoulders with his shaking hands. The guests around him stopped dancing, attracted by the commotion and the instruments fell silent as they anxiously listened to their conversation.

"Yes, I do mean that," Meliah replied icily, lifting her face so he could see her bloodshot eyes.

Beaux's hands dropped to his sides and she walked out of the room. Every man and woman watched as he fell to his knees and wept. He did not care who was watching anymore.


	8. Chapter 8: Forgiveness

Chapter 8: Forgiveness

The last guest had left – drunkenly and haphazardly through the door while humming a merry tune. Beaux watched the man's silhouette disappear from the translucent glass of the doors. Then, footsteps at the opposite end of the darkened entrance hall compelled him to hide in the shadows. He suppressed his breathing and listened.

"That was a wonderful party," a deep, jovial voice declared, "It's quite a shame Meliah was not there to enjoy it."

"Exactly what happened?" another voice inquired. It was a woman's high, twinkling tone.

"It seems Mr. von Chatillon and our little girl had a bit of a quarrel."

"A quarrel?"

"Unfortunately," the man said softly. He clicked his tongue a few times to indicate his sympathy.

"Is she all right?" the woman asked; her voice was suddenly hushed and tense.

"I haven't seen her all night," the man answered sullenly.

The couple was Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier, Meliah's parents. And upon recognizing their figures, Beaux slid from the obscurity of the gloomy corner and into the soft candlelight that shone from Mrs. Lavoirsier's hand.

"Good Evening," Beaux said softly. He had crept upon the two so quickly and quietly that neither had noticed his presence until he stood but a foot away.

"My goodness, you gave me a fright, Mr. Chatillon!" Mrs. Lavoirsier exclaimed with a very theatrical gesture. "Why are you still here?"

"I apologize for alarming you," Beaux began as the woman shook her head so fervently that it seemed her chocolate-colored ringlets would fall right off and slide unto the marble floor.

"No, no, there's no need to apologize," Mr. Lavoirsier assured, patting Beaux's back heartily.

"Then, I must apologize for the commotion I instigated tonight at the party," Beaux said. He hung his head in embarrassment.

"Dear, do tell us what happened," Mrs. Lavoirsier said gently. "I know Meliah can be a very stubborn child sometimes. If she offended you, I will beg your pardon on her behalf."

"Oh, no Mrs. Lavoirsier, I am solely responsible for the…er…event," Beaux said. Mrs. Lavoirsier's eyes beseeched his not unlike the way Meliah's did whenever she wanted him to speak. Although her tone was very motherly, the way she lightly bit upon the edge of her lower lip and furrowed her brows reminded him painfully of Meliah. He looked away from her grey eyes and bit down on his tongue to keep quiet.

"Let the boy be," Mr. Lavoirsier commanded gruffly, pulling his wife toward the staircase by the crook of her arm. "Meliah's in the music room in the East Wing, Mr. Chatillon."

Beaux gave a curt but appreciative nod in Mr. Lavoirsier's direction before heading to the East Wing of the mansion. Beaux stopped and scrutinized objects as he trudged through the halls: a painting, a sculpture, an open novel, anything that could possibly delay his evident meeting with Meliah. He had a strong urge to leave right then and never return. He was too much of a coward to face her – too afraid of what she might say this time.

"I don't want her to hate me," he muttered to a Flemish still-life as he came upon a dark corridor. If he remembered correctly his excursions with Meliah, the music room would be the last room in the hall. And indeed, a small strip of yellow light peeped from the crevice at the bottom of the double doors when he arrived.

He pressed his ear against the soft, white wood in hopes that no one was there. But to his great dismay, he heard weeping – a pathetic, muted sobbing. And to his greater dismay, a man's voice as well!

"Please stop crying," Andante's exquisite voice pleaded, "I didn't climb up two stories just to see you upset." There was a jocular edge to his tone which he enhanced with a melodic chuckle, but Meliah did not sound pacified.

"I'm sorry," she choked. She sniffed a few times and blew into a handkerchief.

Beaux could hear a smile in Andante's voice. "Don't apologize to me."

"But-"

"You are the birthday girl. If anything, _I _should be apologizing. Did I interrupt something?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your friend? Mr. Beaux, I believe, he was called," Andante said casually. Beaux held his breath as he anticipated Meliah's response. Silently, he twisted the door knob and allowed himself a thin line of sight. His heart gave a lurch when he saw the two figures. Meliah sat on the edge of her crimson mattress next to Andante, who was playfully winding his index finger around her chocolaty curls.

"No, no Andante, you misunderstand. He-" Meliah was cut off.

"That is a beautiful gift," Andante said, flourishing a hand exaggeratedly at the tiara Beaux had given her earlier that evening. "Are those _real_ gems?"

Beaux bared his fangs menacingly as his hand tightened around the door knob. How could Andante be so cruel? He did not even try to veil the jealousy that dripped from every one of his words.

Meliah walked over to the table and examined the shimmering headpiece with her small hands. She scrunched her brows and pursed her cherry lips. "No one can buy my attention."

Beaux's heart contracted. _Did she think I was trying to buy her love?_ He questioned. _Does she think I am so stupid as to think diamonds and rubies could win her? If that were true, I would have had her long ago!_

"Apparently," Andante said, swinging her around by the hand as to face him. He pulled her close until she slid unto his lap. "Because, as we both know, I don't have that kind of money."

Meliah giggled as he ran a finger across her pink cheeks. Her eyes were still red and there were still tears clinging to her black eyelashes, but she looked so relieved that for a moment, Beaux could not be any happier.

"Mr. Beaux is only a friend," she muttered finally.

"Oh? Do friends normally exchange kisses?" Andante asked in mock curiosity; he leaned back and cocked his head to the side. A low growl issued from Beaux's throat.

"There was no exchanging!" Meliah insisted; there was panic in her voice now. "He did it of his own accord! I – I would never!" Her breathing was erratic and her eyes wild with an emotion that bordered fear.

"Shhhh," Andante breathed, pressing a finger to her lips. "He loves you, and trust me, I understand how hopeless that can feel-"

Meliah's widened in bewilderment. "Why would you feel hopeless?" Andante laughed out loud hysterically.

"Look around you! The necklaces, the tailored dresses, the shoes, and all that wealth! I can't support a princess like you." He caught a glimpse of dissent in her expression, "And don't try to deny it! You would not be happy if you lived with a man like me. You wouldn't say it, of course - because you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings. That's just the kind of sweetheart you are. But _I_, on the other hand, would live the rest of life watching you suffer, and I would regret never letting you go."

"Letting me go?"

"Think about this darling. Mr. Beaux is a wonderful gentleman, and he can give you everything I cannot. And on top of it all, he loves you… Even I wouldn't choose myself over him," Andante murmured heavily. He looked away from Meliah's imploring eyes as he tilted his head back. Beaux heard such a terrible sadness in Andante's voice! Each breath exhaled was a sigh.

Then, Beaux understood; the two of them were in the same miserable boat and Meliah on the evergreen shore. Beaux never imagined he could feel a smidge of sympathy for his rival!

"Don't ever speak that way again!" Meliah cried.

"You love him." It was not a question. Andante looked at Meliah with a small, heartbreaking smile.

Meliah shook her head in disbelief. "How could you say that?"

"It's true." Andante spoke with pure conviction, as though he were surrendering. Meliah was terrified.

"No it's not!" Meliah screamed. Tears cascaded from her eyes as she jumped to her feet. "I don't love him! I never did! And I never will! He doesn't mean anything to me! Nothing! He can say what he wants, but I will not succumb to any of it! The nonsense! I wish he did not love me! If that _is_ what you want to call it! Oh, I never want to see his stupid face again!"

Beaux was so shocked by her sudden vehemence - her unrestrained hatred toward him - that he tripped over his own feet and slammed into the wall. A painting of chrysanthemums fell to the floor, its gilded frame crashing unto the tiles with a high-pitched clang.

Beaux scrambled to piece it together but Meliah was already at the door. She gasped and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. At first Beaux suspected it was because of the damage he had caused, but she was only looking at him in a frightened, guilty expression.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused tonight. I wanted to come and apologize in person," Beaux said smoothly as he stood up. He had difficulty keeping his tone even.

"Beaux, did you hear everything?" she asked softly.

"Miss Meliah," Beaux began – his voice a mere whisper, "If you desire, I will never say another word. Never… If you desire, I will never appear in front of you again. But may I elucidate? I will do so out of love. And I everything I have ever done was out of love…for you. I only wish I was a bit more original. I'm sorry if I bothered you with my _nonsense_."

Beaux knew it was a low tactic, but if Andante could manipulate guilt to undermine Meliah's resolve, he liked to think it as "evening the playing field." Not that this was a game…

Beaux saw Meliah squirm with discomfort. With Andante behind her, she could deny what she had so eloquently proclaimed before.

"No, no, no Beaux please… there is a misunderstanding! What I mean is…what I mean is… Everything is my fault," she said and then with a sudden gust of inspiration continued, "Yes! Everything is my fault! I am an awful person. I can be so stupid and irrational and senseless!"

Beaux found it endearing: she was so happy to find she could blame herself. No guilt involved.

But Beaux could not shake off his heartbreak, which felt very literal right then. Yes, the shattered pieces rattled between his lungs. He felt almost betrayed by Meliah, and despite himself, his eyes began to water. _Foolish tears!_

"I will leave now Miss Meliah," he murmured dejectedly, "If I knew you would have grown to resent me so much, I would have never confessed. Then I could have been at your side. Even as a friend. Having some part of your attention would have been better than none at all. I wish I could turn back time…"

Beaux heaved a sigh and turned around, but when he tried to walk, he was stopped. Meliah was clinging to his arm, and kneeling. She was spluttering, asking for forgiveness. Andante watched with a visible pain written in his steely eyes. He felt his worst fears being confirmed: Meliah could not let Beaux go.

"Please don't do this to me!" Meliah pleaded. She could hardly breathe, let alone talk, through her maniacal sobbing. "H-how can I p-put this? H-how can I explain? I only l-love Andante."

She began hiccupping and exhaling frantically like a child who had its mother. Beaux crouched down and peeled her hands off his sleeve, but her hands immediately sought his and would not let go. Perhaps, deep down inside, Beaux fantasized, she was returning his feelings.

"But...b-but I d-don't w-want you to h-hate me," she said brokenly. Her lower lip, glazed with tears and saliva, trembled.

Or maybe not, Beaux thought, she was so sensitive…so selfish. Did she have any idea how difficult she was making it for him to give up?

"How could I ever hate you?" Beaux asked. He tried to grin, but his eyes betrayed him. He could feel the tears finally satiating his eyes and gliding over his cheek. _Why are we all weeping like old women?_ Beaux lamented.

Before Meliah could see any more of this side of him, Beaux stood up, glanced briefly at Andante, who threw back a rather vicious glare, and left the home.


	9. Chapter 9: Plan A

**Thank you to all those who have read and/or reviewed this story! I've been inspired these last two weeks and I believe I've updated 3 (or was it 4?) chapters in the past couple of days. If you have any particular suggestions for the story please feel free to leave a review - I am pretty flexible. **

_This chapter was inspired by __iceprincess141414__. Thank you for your support! _

* * *

Chapter 9: Plan A

_Yes, that was a complete waste of time_, Beaux conceded. Meliah was too distraught at the prospect of losing both the trust of her lover and the comradery of her closest friend.

_Only I understand_, Beaux guaranteed, _how frightened you were, Meliah._

He walked past the alley where he had fed upon the golden girl. Indeed, there were her bones and pieces of flesh still decaying in the crevices of the cobblestones. No one had noticed. Beaux continued without a second thought. _Was it a week ago? Or was it two days?_

Time was irrelevant in his world.

But with the entire Birthday fiasco, Beaux had less time in _Meliah's _world. She was his goddess, but she was not immortal. In fact, from what he had seen that day, her soul was extremely fragile. One thing was now excruciatingly clear: he must not let her endure such taxing emotional episodes! If anything befell her, it could break her from the inside. And if she should break, so would he.

Yet nothing he told himself could eclipse what he _knew_. The fear, the panic, the confusion – they were all symptoms of an utterly lovesick child. Beaux had been very lucky. Had Andante pressed her further, she would have shunned Beaux completely - regardless of his overly poignant remarks or gestures. And that would have been but another nail driven into Beaux's already bleeding core.

Despite what Beaux wanted to believe, Meliah was in _love _with Andante.

_It is but a juvenile love_, Beaux repeated in his mind, _a love that is easily formed, easily destroyed, and easily replaced. Andante cannot go the lengths I can nor is he as desperate as I am. _

For the briefest instant, Beaux was buoyed by the infinitesimal spark Meliah had ignited in his soul when she stopped him – when she grabbed his hand and begged him to understand.

But frankly, Beaux could _not_ understand. What was there to discuss? It was Andante or him. There was no other option. Did she not see that she could not have them both?

"So cruel, so naïve," Beaux found himself saying aloud as he collapsed unto his bed and closed his eyes. He parted his lips and let the air exit with a whistle. The back of his eyelids were emblazoned with her image, and his mind could see nothing else.

He bolted up and glowered at the mahogany table on his left. "Since when did I become so vulnerable? Over a human girl nonetheless!" he ranted. Not surprisingly, the table was silent as though it had nothing substantial to contribute to Beaux's dilemma.

Finally relenting to the fact that he would not be able to rest peacefully, Beaux pulled himself from the sheets and sat in front of the window. A snowy hand drew the curtains aside and a bright moon winked at him from the inky skies.

He spun the situation around – over and over – in his head. Ninety degrees, one-eighty degrees, three-hundred-sixty degrees – there was no discrepancy. Andante was the anomaly.

If the anomaly were to be – say, erased, the problem would cease to exist.

The epiphany startled Beaux minutely, but the insight was invaluable.

He would kill Andante. Meliah would never know. She would need comfort. And of course, Beaux would be there. First as best friend, then as lover…

The thought glowed in his mind.

* * *

Beaux was very busy over the next few weeks. There was much to prepare. Contrary to what most humans believe, premeditated murder is not that simple – even for a vampire. 

He spent hours organizing the plan, finding the glitches (there was always some factor that had to be considered), and reorganizing.

The checklist included an abandoned building, a myriad of long metal spikes, and a forged letter.

Beaux was not sadistic by nature, excluding the fact that he had an inherent taste for blood, but he could not be satisfied with killing Andante swiftly. He concluded that if he had to kill at all, he might as well make it the most fantastic murder of all time.

Now if he could only get Meliah to cooperate…

* * *

When Beaux arrived at Meliah's doorstep on a warm afternoon, she ushered him inside. And to his great surprise, she smiled, laughed, and flitted as though nothing had happened. 

"Do you want lemon or green?" she asked when he sat down on a wicker chair on the patio.

"Excuse me?"

"Tea? Do you want some?"

"Oh, no thank you."

"Alright then, more for me!" she chimed cheerfully as she poured the steaming water from the porcelain teapot.

"How is everything?" Beaux asked cautiously. There was something very queer about her behavior.

"Splendid, splendid," she replied with a subconscious nod. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the sweet scent of her lemon tea. "Are you sure you do not want _any_? It has a lovely flavor."

"No I'm quite fine, thank you."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. She swirled her teaspoon vigorously and it clinked against the fine china. Meliah was hiding it, but her hand was shaking.

Beaux sat quietly for several long minutes, hoping Meliah would divulge her secrets without cajoling. But she discursively evaded any topics that concerned her private life.

"Isn't the weather lovely?" she asked once. "The sky is also like a sapphire! So blue and so clear…" She hummed incoherently.

Beaux had just about enough, and his empathetic gaze was so blaringly obvious that he was sure she was ignoring it. "Meliah," he mumbled after some silence, "What is troubling you so?"

"Nothing," she replied with a smile, "why do you ask?"

"Did something happen between you and Andante?"

"No-" she responded mechanically.

"Please don't lie."

"I'm not lying!"

"We have been friends for a long time. I can tell when you are not telling me the truth," Beaux said softly.

Meliah's façade faltered for a fraction of a second and regenerated into a more dazzling smile.

"May I entrust you with a secret?" she asked. Her voice was hushed and tense, but the way her eyes expanded and her posture lowered seemed to suggest it was something she was not quite _excited_ about.

"Anything," Beaux tried to answer encouragingly but even in his ears, he sounded worried and anxious.

"We are eloping-"

Beaux thanked God he was not drinking tea at that moment for it would have been sprayed all over Meliah. He gagged on his own saliva anyway. She seemed indifferent to his robust coughs.

"-Andante and I," she finished. She pulled her lips apart so he could see her pearly teeth. She looked perfect: dark ringlets arranged like a giant conch on her head, ivory gloves swathing her lithe arms, and the gorgeous white of her shoulders. Yet, her eyes were devoid of any emotion.

"You are afraid," Beaux stated quietly. He heard her teacup rattle slightly on its saucer.

"No, I'm ecstatic," she corrected.

"You are afraid of the life you will lead if you follow him," he continued, watching the smile fade off her face, "It's not your fault. He should have never forced you to make that decision."

"I am very happy about this," she said. Her voice was dead.

"You do not have to pretend when you are with me," Beaux said gently as she lowered her cup on the table.

"I'm not pretending," she murmured, gazing upwards into his green eyes. Her eyes were so dark, they were almost black, and they were glistening oddly.

"How can you be happy? Leaving your parents, yet unable to say goodbye. Living like a street rat when all you've ever known was opulence. Love can neither pay rent nor provide food," Beaux pressed on. It was a rhetorical question, but Meliah was intent on answering.

"Andante has made sacrifices for me. This is the least I can do," she spoke inaudibly now. Tears glazed her lashes and she clutched at her heart, which was beating so loudly he could hear it. Beaux grasped her chin before she could look away.

"Andante has lost nothing, and is gaining _everything_!" Beaux cried, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Do not say it like that-"

"Your mind, your body, your love! _Everything_!" He was trembling so violently, she was shaking under his fingers.

"Beaux-" she moaned in pain, but his grip did not loosen.

"Look at me! Tell me the truth! Please!" he practically shouted.

She took one deep look at his face, and her eyes literally melted. She shook her head, but he pulled her into his arms.

"Beaux," she began, her voice faltering tragically, "I'm scared."

She wept piteously, wiping the crystalline tears on her satiny gloves. She babbled through her soft sobs, but Beaux hushed her.

"Then stay. You do not have to prove your devotion this way."

She pressed her head against his chest and heaved a few sighs. Beaux wondered if she could hear his heart hammering the inside of his rib cages. It was almost embarrassing because the beats were so loud! Meliah closed her eyes and for a full fifteen minutes, dozed.

Beaux was too much of a coward to touch her. When she appeared to have gained her consciousness she was resolved.

"No, I have decided," she said, suddenly brisk.

Beaux could not help but smile, "But you are not ready _now_. When do you plan on departing?"

"This Saturday," she replied, her voice calming and her blotchiness ebbing. "Please do not get me wrong, Mr. Beaux. Despite these childish preoccupations, I am in bliss. I can spend the rest of my life with the man I love. What other greed can I harbor? No, no, I will leave."

She stood up and ran her hand down her dress to press out the wrinkles. There was a detached business-like manner with which she handled the cups and trays as she took them to the kitchen.

Beaux followed her. When he was positive there was no other person within earshot, he spoke up.

"Miss Meliah, as my last gift, I would like to suggest that this eloping business is done with the proper – how shall I say it – procedures. Do you have transportation? A place to go?"

These new problems seemed unfamiliar to Meliah. "Transportation?" she asked in a clearly puzzled voice.

Beaux chuckled at her confusion. "I knew this would be a problem."

Meliah pouted, pressing her lips together. Beaux found himself clinging to the counter with unnecessary force.

"There is an old, deserted building on Rosary Lane," Beaux suggested. He felt a pang as his insides squirmed. If he had not been such an expert liar, it would have been difficult to sound so unaffected.

"Perfect!" Meliah agreed. There was no suspicion in her expression. Her bona fide confidence in him made his legs crumble underneath him. "Thank you so much." She was sincere…

_Poor girl!_ Beaux whimpered.

"Why not write him a letter? Explain the…plans. If you wish…I will deliver it personally," Beaux said. He did not want to sound too eager for it would trigger incredulity. He made sure there was a woeful edge to his tone.

"Will you? Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She scrawled a brief note on the edge of a napkin and handed it to Beaux with both hands.

"How can I ever repay you?" she asked; her eyes twinkled.

He closed the distance between the two of them in three long strides. His left arm encircled her waist. Meliah's eyes became so round, he could have placed a button perfectly on top of them.

"Give me a _real_ kiss," he whispered huskily. "My first and last…"

He could feel her every breath as she staggered and tried move away. But Beaux pressed her against himself.

"Is this why you offered to help?" she asked, glaring. She clenched her jaws tightly together.

"And if I said 'yes' would it change anything?" he asked with a charming grin.

"No," she conceded.

"Come then," he coaxed. Beaux ran a pale finger over her pink lips, and she shivered with what she tried to pass off as disgust.

With his free hand, Beaux angled her face towards his. She closed her eyes and compressed her lips into a thin line. Beaux smiled to himself at her futile attempts to deter him. It only provoked him further.

He gently pressed his lips unto hers, and slowly, with the tip of his tongue, delineated the contours. He watched hungrily as her eyes snapped open. She had never been kissed like this before.

Beaux carefully inhaled her essence as he gained further entry. Meliah clutched unto his shirt almost in exhilaration, and Beaux was more than happy to oblige her demands – intentional or not. He wound his hand in her hair, letting it fall spectacularly from its formation.

Entwined in his arms, Meliah accidentally knocked something over from the counter. Upon making contact with the floor, it promptly shattered into pieces with a _clang!_ Beaux swept Meliah off her feet and sat her on the table, never breaking contact. But Meliah was already distracted.

She gasped when they broke apart. Breathing frantically, she pushed him aside and slid off the table - clearly disoriented. Skirting the shards, she took off her gloves and dabbed some cold water unto her hot, flushed skin.

"Do not forget," she mumbled and ran from the room.

Beaux never found out if she was talking about the note, or the kiss…


	10. Chapter 10: Dear Diary

Inspired by Sanriko. Thank you for your support!

* * *

Chapter 10: Dear Diary

Finding Andante was not much of a problem. When Beaux delivered Meliah's crude note to the boy, he seemed more sympathetic than apprehensive. Beaux would rather have had Andante question his actions and pelt him with vicious words, than to have him so calm and innocuous.

There was something extremely unnerving about Andante's confidence that forced Beaux to use every ounce of his self-control in order to remain upright.

"Thank you," Andante said to him as he turned to leave the dowdy vendor, "For her." Andante spoke with genuine sincerity, but Beaux's conscience was unmoved.

He faced Andante, savoring the stupid innocence that brimmed in Andante's grey eyes. Beaux smiled and his voice became silky, "My pleasure."

As Beaux walked toward the sunlit Main Street, there was a definite spring in his step. The plan was working perfectly – no flaws, no glitches.

* * *

Friday. The last day before Meliah would disappear from Beaux's life. Supposedly… 

Beaux arrived an hour before noon to deliver Andante's compliance. He hoped that he would be able to catch Meliah before lunch, and the two of them could share a normal afternoon together. Well, that is, as normally as a vampire could…

He had deprived himself of human blood for a full fortnight in order to unleash his hunger on his impending victim. It was not a risk he would generally take with Meliah, but his desire to see her again overwhelmed every one of his senses.

The kiss had confirmed everything he was fighting for: her soft lips, her sweet breath, her gentle fingertips, her flickering lashes, her _everything_… But what thrilled Beaux above all, was her fervent response. Could it be that despite everything she claimed she was succumbing to his passion? Or was she simply allured by curiosity? The way he touched her?

He convinced himself it was the former.

Beaux was ushered into the Lavoirsier mansion by a timid, young maidservant, who looked somewhat like a callow parrot. Her strange pink flesh seemed to offset her burgundy hair as she brought him to Meliah's bedroom on the second floor.

"She will be back soon," assured the maid with what she believed to be an attractive smile. The expression was so contrary to what her face was designed for that it looked more like a smirk than a sign of benevolence.

Nevertheless, Beaux graced the woman with a polite nod before stepping into the room. The open window at the opposite side extended the space into the gorgeous periwinkle skies. A welcome zephyr danced through the lacy curtains before coming to tickle Beaux's ear.

The maid glanced at him wistfully through her white eyelashes, her dull irises contracting as the sunlight glistened on his cold, white epidermis.

Beaux heard the maid let out a regretful sigh and caught a glimpse of her shaking her head. "What a waste," he thought she muttered.

The room was exactly as he remembered it – a pink, frilly, Rococo vision. And there it was, his music box, now accompanied by his tiara. Beaux walked over to Meliah's ornate vanity and let his hands graze the smooth cover of the music box before he flipped the top over.

Instantaneously, a sweet melody issued from its depths and Beaux found himself humming the tune absentmindedly. He inquisitively reached inside the box. A luxurious collection of rings, necklaces, and brooches temporarily distracted him from a simple, leather-bound book at the bottom.

"What's this?" he asked aloud as he casually flipped through the pages. He nearly dropped it when he saw Meliah's curly script across the white sheets. _A diary_, he realized, _recording Meliah's thoughts!_

Beaux was quite alarmed at the idea of impinging on Meliah's privacy. Greater yet, he was afraid of what he may discover. His hands clenched instinctively over the book's spine, and he was on the verge of returning the box to its container when he caught his name on one of the pages. His curiosity as to what Meliah thought about him superceded his moral restraints. _One peek_, his promised to himself.

Beaux's eyes greedily drank in the entry:

* * *

_**August 28**__**th **__**1887**_

_**Afternoon**_

_Papa invited one of his business partners to dinner today. I knew it was going to be a boring session – as usual – so I prepared a list of reasons why I shouldn't attend, but Mama wouldn't hear of it. _

_She wouldn't tell me who it was (not that I would have known anyway), and her attempts at secrecy were truly irritating! And she kept making a fuss over my dress and hair. She made me wear that superfluous white gown I received from Aunt May. This corset, by the way, is cutting off my air supply even as I write. _

_Oh, I believe that's her right now. I suppose the guest has arrived. _

_**Later…**_

_Where do I begin Diary? Mr. Beaux, my father's business partner, is hardly older than I am! I heard Papa just a minute ago. He is only nineteen! But he was so mature, so elegant, so breathtaking! _

_All right, let me explain. Here was I, waiting down at the entrance hall, expecting some old, wrinkly man to appear, when I see Beaux. Can you believe my surprise? A gorgeous boy (tall, thin, blonde, green-eyed) standing there! Mama was acting like a total fool; I was so embarrassed. Yet he was ever polite. I didn't let him kiss my hand though – I would feel like such a traitor. _

_He let me chat for quite a bit at dinner and even laughed at all my witty jests (I was so thankful!). He has a very attractive voice, too - soft and gentle, like the kind that girls swoon over in romance novels. Yet he had an intimidating habit of gazing deeply into my eyes as though he was looking through me. It was very unsettling – I felt so exposed! I hope he didn't notice me averting my eyes. I felt my pupils would burn up if he kept staring into them any longer! _

_So that was why Mama was so meticulous about my appearance! As if anyone as beautiful and influential as he is would ever be interested in such a normal, plain girl like me. _

* * *

"Normal? Plain?" Beaux wondered incredulously. "What on earth are you talking about, love?" 

Beaux snapped the diary shut, inwardly relishing Meliah's compliments. Then it was true, she _was_ attracted to him. But his mind drifted to one word: "traitor." Had she already met Andante?

Before he knew what he was doing, Beaux was shifting through the diary once more, looking for the entry that would document her meetings with Andante. He found it quickly, for she, as he sadly realized, wrote much about Andante.

_**

* * *

**__**January 7**__**th **__**1887**_

_I went to the vendor again today. Mama was a little suspicious – it was snowing outside! Yet I managed to convince her I needed some fresh air since I have been cooped in the house for so long. I think this has been my twentieth visit since the end of November last year. Andante was working (of course!). I'm certain I must have spent a small fortune by now, trying to find some excuse to see his face. My goodness, the things a girl will do for love! _

_I tried to get his attention by feigning stupidity, which as a future notice, I will write, is a very bad tactic. _

_I think he was getting annoyed because when I asked him where the porcelain plates were for the third time in a row he let out a haughty sigh and pointed over to stack at the back with a very discourteous frown._

_He didn't even say anything! Diary, what should I do? What if he hates me now?_

_**January 12**__**th **__**1887**_

_Dear Diary,_

_I confessed to Andante today. _

_I tried to ease into a conversation by asking him questions about his work, but he just became more impatient. So I decided to jump right in (I probably sounded a tad aggressive, but in my defense, he had not been much of a gentleman). _

"_Andante," I finally said, "the truth is, I…I really like you. And I've been coming here for so long because...because I wanted to tell you that. I apologize if I bothered you." _

_I thought he would explode in my face, ranting about how silly and incompetent I was. But he did not. No, he smiled brilliantly and leaned against the side of a crate casually._

"_Miss Meliah," he said, mocking my tone (but I clung to every syllable), "the truth is I really like you too." _

_I was overjoyed! "How come you did not say anything before?" I asked him quickly._

_He shrugged (I honestly can not say where his confidence comes from!). "I wanted to hear _you_ say it. I must say, I was getting tired of waiting," he said. And then leaned toward me until we were an inch apart and whispered, "May I call you 'Meliah' now?" _

_He was so adorable! I could hardly keep my breathing steady! "Of course," I replied raggedly. _

_Andante and Meliah – I like the sound of that…_

* * *

Beaux found that the palms of his hands were slick with perspiration. He flipped towards the back of the book, keeping his eyes peeled for recent entries._**

* * *

**__**February 2**__**nd**__** 1888**_

_Andante came late last night. He scaled two stories the way he always does (so flawlessly and so deftly), and I suddenly found him sitting calmly at the end of my bed with the most indescribable expression – as though he was afraid. _

"_What's wrong?" I asked, bolting out of my blankets to crawl into his lap. He bended forward suddenly and made an endeavor to kiss me, I believe. I pulled away just before his lips grazed mine. I don't know why I did that, but Andante looked hurt. _

_I was going to apologize when he got down unto his knees. I was so surprised – I thought he was going to start pleading with me and demand an explanation. Then he asked in his most startling voice, "Meliah, will you marry me?" _

_I said yes. What else could I have done without losing his trust?_

_**February 4**__**th**__** 1888**_

_Beaux visited today. Oh, Beaux, what am I to do with you? _

_His presence was completely unexpected. You see, I was in the middle of a personal crisis. Beaux, as beautiful as ever, sat there patiently as I hopelessly rambled from subject to subject. My poor heart – trying to figure out how to live! _

_He's right, I know. I'm not ready to go with Andante – not yet. _

_Oh, but Beaux is so cruel! He makes me churn inside. You can not imagine how much it hurts me to discuss this with him! And yet he breaks my resistance and makes me divulge all my insecurities. I love him so much, and every time I see his crestfallen face, I feel as though I'm committing some heinous crime – committing murder! I thought he would understand. I thought he would be happy for us. _

_And my darling Andante, my heart simply stops and loses all sense of reason when I think about him. How can I possibly tell him, I'm too selfish and frightened to risk everything? _

_P.S. Beaux kissed me again. He is the only man I've ever kissed, yet he is the only man I wish I never had. _

* * *

Beaux read the entry over and over again, hoping to inculcate some part of it in his mind. She loves him. 

He shocked himself when the ink began to smear; two thick teardrops had landed on the paper. Why was he crying?

He needed to find Meliah and try to change her mind – one last time before he resorted to force.

"Excuse me!" Beaux called after the maidservant who was mopping the floors of a neighboring room. "It's been two hours. Where is Miss Meliah?"

"Did I forget to mention?" she asked – clearly puzzled. "Miss Meliah went to have lunch with some fellow we met at the market. Who did he say he was? Oh yes, he introduced himself as Mister Vincent von Chatillon."

Beaux's voice became icy, "Vincent von Chatillon. You are sure?"

"Certainly," she replied.

_What does _he_ want with her?_ Beaux thought frantically.

He left the mansion without a word and headed to his estate.


	11. Chapter 11: Transformation

A lavish truckload of thanks to everyone who has ever read this and supported my work. This has been made possible by Viewers like You.

* * *

Chapter 11: Transformation

Beaux nearly pummeled through the doors of his chateau when he arrived, not stopping to throw off his overcoat or wipe the soles of his mud-stained shoes. Upon slamming the wall, the doors and their frail, crystal, sunburst windows complained with a loud _bang_! The marble tiles squeaked with discomfort as his filthy footprints impressed a grimy image on their spotless surfaces.

Beaux, however, was only concerned with locating Meliah. _What had he done to her? _Beaux thought angrily as he followed a familiar scent down the corridor toward the dining hall.

A high, sparkling laughter rang through the corridor, and Beaux broke into a run. _Meliah!_

The doors leading to the dining hall were ajar, but Beaux stopped. He could hear every word as though he was sitting right next to her.

"You can not possibly be!" Meliah exclaimed incredulously to a handsome gentleman sitting directly across from her at a formal table. Clearly, he was not a day over thirty. Her voice was melodious as she continued, "You are far too young! "

Beaux's heart fluttered when he say her – eyes bright with curiosity and hands clapped together as though she had just heard the brunt of some wonderful joke. Meliah tossed her head, allowing her long curls to swing back. They caught the light of the chandelier and glowed lavishly against her peachy skin. Had Beaux been human, he would have suffocated; she knocked him breathless – even from such a distance.

The man sitting with Meliah smiled, his eyes becoming crescents behind a set of dark lashes. He traced the edge of his teacup with a smooth, white finger. He answered softy, "I was young when I married his mother. She was younger, of course."

"Is that so?" Meliah asked cautiously. There was an edge in her tone that indicated her discomfort; the man had seemed somewhat offended by her comment. She instantly withdrew from the conversation and pulled upright in her seat – her body rigid. Beaux's frustration increased when he saw her eyes turn stoic and a small frown crease her brow.

But the man's smile only grew wider. He stopped toying with his teacup and placed his beautiful head, which had somewhat of a sharp aspect, on the palm of his propped hand, cupping his right jaw. He playfully cocked his head to the side, letting his long, straight, white-blonde hair slide from his shoulders and unto the varnished plane of tabletop. Meliah did not make eye contact with him, although his piercing green ones appraised her.

"Why is he so infatuated with you?" the gentleman asked with a strange mixture of amazement and amusement.

"Excuse me?" Meliah asked with a small jump of surprise. Her irises expanded to capture the confusion permeating her small face. The man chuckled softly as he got out of his chair. Tucking a feathery strand of hair behind his left ear, he began walking around the table towards her.

"I wondered for the longest time, you know," he began softly as though in deep thought, "why my son was so obsessed with this girl. Yes, and I mean _obsessed_. You should have heard some of his pathetic soliloquies! It was extremely unhealthy for him to be pining over some child. But imagine, a simple, normal, average girl at that!"

Meliah looked down and blushed crimson with shame. Beaux could her eyes forming cataracts with a watery film of tears. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to stop herself, but Beaux saw a strand of transparent liquid slip from beneath her pink eyelids. Despite his desire to comfort her, his feet remained immobile.

The other man reached Meliah's side. With a fluid motion, he stooped to her eye level and gently brushed away the tear stain. She looked at him, bewildered by his passive touch.

"But now I think I know," the man breathed, "There is something very alluring about you. I cannot identify it -" He paused to stroke her hair. "-But it's there."

The man flashed a dazzling smile, and Beaux watched her fall captive to his searing gaze.

Meliah's mouth opened in a futile attempt to speak. But the man seemed preoccupied; he looked suspiciously at the open door, and Beaux stepped back instinctively.

"Beaux," the man called, "Come say 'hello.'"

Meliah's head jerked in the same direction, and Beaux found little choice but to go inside.

"Hello," Beaux said sheepishly with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Beaux," Meliah murmured. Her unveiled relief to see him brought Beaux to his senses. He glowered at the man relentlessly.

"Wonderful timing," the man said with a content nod, "I was just telling Miss Meliah here-"

"Vincent," Beaux cut in dangerously, "What are you doing here?"

The man's smile did not falter for a moment, but it had become a malicious sneer. "I thought we were over formalities," Vincent commented, "It's been a while. Why hold grudges? They're petty, trivial, and meaningless! No matter what happens I'm still your father."

Beaux's face was devoid of any emotion. His lips barely moved when he spoke, "Please leave."

"Is that any way to treat your father?" Vincent cried in sarcastic shock.

"I'm not in the mood to play your games!" Beaux snapped.

Vincent rolled his eyes and leaned over to Meliah in mock pout. "And we were having such a nice chat," he started. He tenderly pulled Meliah's hand toward his lips and gave her a courteous peck on the palm. Meliah blushed and bit her lower lip in uncertainty.

"Don't touch her!" Beaux bellowed at Vincent, and he regretted it instantly. Meliah's eyes darted toward Beaux in alarm; she had never heard him raise his voice before.

Vincent backed off, but he did not appear intimidated in any way.

"Oh come, we were just talking," Vincent said nonchalantly.

"Just leave," Beaux said firmly. He closed his eyes and tried to force a breath through his clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid I can't do that son. I have something important to…discuss."

Beaux ignored him and rushed to Meliah, obsequiously checking her temperature and pulse.

"Are you all right?" Beaux inquired. He searched her face with the acidic green eyes he had so evidently inherited from his father.

"I'm fine," Meliah answered while trying to hide the fact that she was trembling unnaturally.

"What's wrong?" Beaux asked. Panic crept into his voice upon seeing her. Meliah's face had a strange tinge – like a pale, ghastly green.

It happened so rapidly and unexpectedly. After a shuddering breath, Meliah gasped terribly with her eyes wild with pain and suddenly lost consciousness. She fell forward before Beaux could stop her, and her head hit the table with a thud.

Beaux was taken aback in terror. Even in his desperation, it took him a minute to recover and move her carefully to a sofa in the parlor. She draped across the sofa's curvy form like a blanket – heavy and resigned.

"That worked out better than I expected," Vincent said lightheartedly from behind him.

Without a second thought, Beaux spun around and viciously attempted to attack Vincent, but it to no avail. Vincent was simply too fast and too experienced to be hindered by the assaults of a young vampire like Beaux. After two minutes, Beaux forfeited reluctantly.

"What did you do?!" Beaux choked through a frustrated cry.

"She has only fainted," Vincent assured, "But whether she remains alive is strictly up to you." He walked toward Meliah's unconscious form and delicately touched her neck. Beaux's body was seized by presentiment. There was something destructively pernicious in Vincent's smoldering gaze.

And his confirmations were confirmed. Vincent swiftly tore her skin with his sharp nails – so deeply that blood began to pour from the wound like a bubbling spring.

Beaux was petrified at the sight. He had not eaten for weeks. The smell of blood was already overpowering him and drowning his other senses. And it was Meliah's smell. So sweet. So irresistible…

Beaux found himself shaking with desire and he licked his lips impulsively (a reaction he sickened at the thought of). _Not her!_ His soul screamed. But what good was his soul when it was the body that controlled him?

Before he could lose his sanity, Beaux flew to the door.

"My nails were coated with venom," Vincent said quietly, "If you are quick you could draw it out."

Beaux came to an abrupt stop. "Venom?" he repeated stupidly. He fell to knees in horror; his body was beyond his control. His nails and fangs were elongating.

_I cannot do it!_ He thought hopelessly. _I will kill her. I will not stop. I will not be able to stop. And she will die!_

"A human," Vincent murmured in disgust as he indifferently pulled a lock of dark brown hair forward from behind her ear; he let it drop unceremoniously in the sticky blood. "Like mother like child."

But Beaux could not hear anything for his own heart was pounding like a mad drum in his chest. He looked at Meliah's neck - ripped open and streaming red. The blood soiled her beautiful grey dress, spreading through the fabric like blossoming petals.

He could not do it, but if he did not… The second prospect frightened him even more.

He crawled to her side, trying not to breathe in the scent. But it was as though his pores were inhaling. His skin was on fire.

With a pair of trembling hands, Beaux held Meliah's paling face. He closed his eyes, inwardly quailing at the sight of her marred body.

Slowly, he pressed his puckered lips to her neck. He could not trust himself to draw the damaged blood any other way. Perhaps if he just sucked out the poison, he could leave her unscathed.

But when he tasted the blood, his self control was dissipated. He automatically bit into her neck and began satiating his thirst like a monster.

The thick liquid, brilliantly scarlet against Meliah's white skin, slid down Beaux's throat easily – more easily than he would have preferred. The sensation was amazing, wonderful, incredible; it was unlike any feeding Beaux had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because Meliah's blood meant so much to him. Each drop he tasted was a thrust of ecstasy in his body.

Vampire lovers often exchanged blood to confirm their passions. Beaux had to admit this was nothing short of a romantic encounter. His body was writhing and twisting uncontrollably as he became increasingly aggressive, pulling her limp body closer and adjusting his stranglehold.

His frantic heartbeats were replaced by perturbed growls as the blood flow became strained. It was so delicious! It was pure, sweet, free of extraneous substances, and… free of extraneous substances. The thought revolved like a marquee in his mind.

_There was no venom. _

Beaux choked on the latest gulp of blood, but his mouth refused to spit it out. His eyes were leaking with tears; he was disgusted with himself. By failing to protect the girl he loved, by allowing his physical need supercede his reason… He had proved he was not in the least human.

The revelation had broken his thirst, which would have otherwise been unstoppable. His hands pulled away from Meliah tremulously. He could not bear to look at her.

Unfortunately, he caught a glimpse of her drained body – gaunt and white – as he turned away. He collapsed on the floor, sobbing brokenly and panting for oxygen.

He was too exhausted to fulminate at Vincent, who watched him amusedly from beginning to end without blinking.

"She's still alive," Vincent finally broke the silence.

The thought drew Beaux out of his self-pity. Indeed, Meliah's breathing was shallow but certainly existent. His relief could not be explained in words.

He pulled her gently into his arms, quietly apologizing to her sleeping form, and placed her body in his bed upstairs.


	12. Chapter 12: Ulterior Motives

Chapter 12: Ulterior Motives

Beaux felt the cloth of Meliah's dress, damp and warm from the blood. He cringed as some of the scarlet wiped unto his hands. In a desperate attempt to rid of the enticing aroma, Beaux thoughtlessly began to remove the soiled garments. He had already untied the back of the gown before Vincent reminded him of his lack of propriety.

His hands dropped to his sides immediately, and still blushing furiously, Beaux rushed out of the room and called for an old female cook to handle the matter.

Vincent watched Beaux's every move with intense curiosity. Beaux's eyes darted from side to side agitatedly – first to the door, then to the floor. Beaux's fingers wound and unwound. Beaux's body shifted restlessly he placed his weight on one foot, then the other.

The anxiety that was emanating from Beaux was filling the hall as though the very air surrounding them was becoming heavier with every sweat drop.

Vincent could not help feeling relieved when the cook came out with the bloodied clothes. Another instant of Beaux's fidgeting and he was sure to get sick.

Beaux sprinted into the room and plopped himself on the floor next the head of the bed.

The worst of the bleeding had stopped. All that remained of the incident was a bright, white wound on the top of Meliah's neck. His fingers hesitantly ran across its length and it was burning. Save for the subtle undulation of her chest as she breathed, Meliah was motionless.

"I'm terribly sorry," he whispered as he brought her limp hand to his lips. He kissed each of her fingertips.

"I do not understand," Vincent suddenly murmured. Beaux watched him shuffle into the room, looking extremely revolted. "She's just a human."

Beaux turned away and gazed at Meliah with unrestrained admiration. His voice was soft, "It does not matter whether she is human or not."

"She is simple. There is nothing extraordinary about her. She is naïve and ugly," Vincent said.

"I could care less."

"_This_ is what you are going to risk your life over?"

Beaux looked at him again, his eyes unflinching. "Yes."

"But – she is just a human!" Vincent exclaimed. He frantically gesticulated and his eyes were wild with panic. There was something increasingly desperate about his voice.

"I would love her if she was an ogre-"

"I'm sure you would!"

"- and yes, I would. I love her because she is no one but herself. And that means everything to me. Being human has nothing to do with it all! It's my heart – my heart!"

The room echoed with peals of maniacal laughter. Vincent nearly doubled over in his hysteria. He clutched the door frame with one hand and his side with the other. "She said that same thing, your mother," Vincent hissed.

"You killed her," Beaux said dangerously.

"NO I DID NOT!" Vincent screamed. His sudden outburst shook the room so severely that even Meliah murmured discontentedly in her quiet slumber. Vincent's green irises became a pitch black as they dilated uncontrollably. He stood with his body rigid, and his nails pierced the wood until the surface was marred by thick slashes.

Beaux went on, unfazed, "Yes, you did. You made her kill him as you tried to make me kill Meliah tonight. But _I_ stopped. I-"

"I did not kill her."

"Yes. You did."

"No! She chose to die. She wanted to die," Vincent shook his head furiously as he spoke.

"Because that was the only option you left her," Beaux retorted.

"No, I gave her many options - thousands of choices! She could have taken any path, but she did not."

"You made her take the life of the man she loved. How did you expect she would recover?"

"But he was only a human, _a human_ I tell you," Vincent whispered back. He clutched his chest distraughtly and dropped to his knees. "He was stupid and wretched. And…and me… Look at me!"

Vincent gestured to himself as to emphasize the gorgeousness of his physique. Then, frustrated and confused, he put his face in his hands.

Beaux watched his father and felt a sudden surge of sympathy. It was as though he was looking at his reflection. After all, how often had he spent his nights mourning his love? But his anger was hardly diminished.

"You should have let her go," Beaux said sagely. "You broke her."

Vincent shook his head. "Don't pretend you could have done differently!" he spat at Beaux.

Beaux's look of surprise seemed to hearten him.

"You're planning to kill that girl's lover!" Vincent accused. His volume frightened Beaux, whose green eyes flitted to Meliah before he tried to push Vincent out the door.

"Shut up!" Beaux ordered through clenched teeth.

But Vincent easily pushed his son aside. "I've heard to talking to yourself at night, going over the murder, making sure there are no problems – no evidence that will link you to homicide. Oh, but it won't be a quick death for the poor lad will it? You're going to make sure he feels every ounce of pain you can possibly inflict. Then when he's out, you can come and take the prize. You can't endure a moment of your jealousy and you are preaching to me?! You've deceived the girl you claim to love and you think _I_ left your mother no options?"

"Please!" Beaux begged, his voice straining, "Please, don't say anymore!" He glanced nervously at Meliah, who had rolled unto her side with a heaving sigh. "Please, please stop."

Vincent childishly smirked, "I will stop when I want to!"

But when he heard Meliah stir, he fell silent.

"Hmm? What am I doing here?" Meliah asked aloud as she slowly pulled herself to a sitting position.

Beaux demeanor changed in a heartbeat. A smile lit his face and he sprung to her side with a glass of water that Vincent could swore had not been there before.

"You fainted," Beaux answered. He lost his fight against his impulses and quickly tucked a stray lock behind her ear. His fingers grazed her wounded neck.

"Ow!" Meliah exclaimed as her hand jumped to the scar. She gasped when she felt the raised skin. "Did I hurt myself?"

"Don't worry about it," he hushed. "Just get some more sleep, please."

"I am a bit tired," she began. But then she looked around the room, and her expression became indecipherable. "Is this your bedroom?" she inquired softly.

"Yes," Beaux answered. Meliah blushed crimson.

"On second thought, I better leave. I believe I've caused too much trouble for one day," she said hurriedly. She clambered out of the bed, but her legs were still too weak to support her. She toppled dramatically into Beaux's arms.

"I insist," Beaux said as his hands slid across her arms. She averted her eyes and began fiddling with the long ribbon on the front of her nightgown.

It took her several minutes to realize that the dress was not hers. It was long, white, and thick, but Meliah could not help feeling very exposed. She flew back into the bed and covered herself with the silk sheets.

Beaux chuckled. "Your other dress was ruined by a terrible, purplish stain. You will have to forgive me. I will buy you another one. As for the mean time, this one will have to do ('tis the cook's). Please rest."

Meliah did not look reassured. She was so embarrassed that tears were already welling up in her dark eyes.

"Don't cry," Beaux whispered as he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket. "Would you like us to leave?"

She nodded slowly. Her lower lip trembled as she struggled to contain a wail.

"I'll be outside," Beaux said.

He was about to leave when an extra figure in the hall caught his attention.

A startlingly beautiful girl stepped into the room past Vincent.

"Cecilia?" Beaux asked.

The girl laughed, "It's been a while!"

Beaux was caught off gaurd, and in his surprise, he did not notice the shadow that fell across Meliah's face.


	13. Chapter 13: Differences

**A quick update to everyone who has ever read this story... Thank you for supporting me everyone!**

* * *

Chapter 13: Differences

Cecilia walked as though she had no feet. She hovered and floated like a butterfly over the open petals of a flower in bloom; she looked like one too. Her hair was a dark chestnut brown that had a red sheen in the sunlight. It contrasted dramatically with her chalk white skin but seemed to complement her ruby lips. She did not so much as to glance at Meliah or Vincent with her hazel eyes as she stepped unto the carpet.

With a smooth, fluid motion she came to Beaux's side to brush his cheek with a chaste kiss. She held out a hand and he returned the gesture.

"I last saw you when you were still a child! Look how you've grown!" Cecilia exclaimed in a high voice. Her eyes twinkled and she let out a small, incandescent laugh.

"And you as well," Beaux commented politely, "Beautiful, as ever."

"Oh stop!" she insisted, but she did not look displeased.

"Well, as you're here, why don't we have lunch together?" Vincent suggested innocently from the side. He appeared peeved by Cecilia's blatant obliviousness to his presence. He was tapping his fingers impatiently on his sleeve.

"Oh, I apologize! I was just so excited about seeing Beaux again," she said as she snaked her arm around Beaux's, "I could hardly pay attention."

"Who could?" Vincent asked sardonically.

"Lunch would be lovely," Cecilia said lazily. She stared at Beaux as though she had never seen anyone like him before.

"If I may intrude," a cold voice came from behind them, "I would like to request some privacy."

Surprised by the hostility, Cecilia swirled around and saw a very ruffled girl glaring at the three of them. She retaliated with an equally disapproving gaze. The girl's curly, dark hair was rumpled and her skin was sickly ashen. On top of it all, she was wearing a dowdy nightshift with a small hole at the shoulder.

Beaux smiled – unaware of the battle that was taking place.

"Cecilia," Beaux declared proudly, "This is Miss Meliah Lavoirsier."

"Oh," Cecilia whispered as she took a step closer to Beaux, "So _that's _her." There was a very derogatory pitch to her tone. She began to play absentmindedly with the ends of her red hair.

"Meliah," Beaux said as he brought Cecilia closer, "This is Cecilia Mansart."

"Hello Miss Mansart-" Meliah began icily.

"No, no, please," Cecilia interrupted with a flick of her wrist, "Call me Cecilia."

"Of course, Miss Cecilia," Meliah corrected herself, but it was not out of respect.

"Beaux's told me so much about you!" Cecilia exclaimed with a small jump. Her voluminous skirts flapped like a pair of satin wings.

"Truly? He's never told me anything about you."

"Well, I suppose it's because he writes to me-"

"_Writes_?" Meliah cut in.

"Oh yes," Cecilia confirmed with a nod, "We write all the time. Beaux's a beautiful writer. Did you know that? Splendid penmanship…"

"I had no idea." Meliah's voice was steely. "He had never written anything to me before."

Meliah looked at the sheets in her lap for a moment and then at the lamp at the bedside table. Cecilia beamed.

"Well then, gentlemen," Cecilia said as she pushed Vincent and Beaux toward the door, "Why don't we spare Miss Lavoirsier some privacy?"

"Come out when you're ready," Beaux called before the door was shut. He was already in the hall by the time Meliah burst into tears.

* * *

Lunch was an interesting affair. Cecilia was a vivacious young thing, who had a critical opinion on just about anything. Luckily, her incessant chatter filled in the lapses in input from everyone else.

"Oh, did you hear? It was on the headlines all yesterday! Apparently the mayor was caught in some illicit affair with a prostitute. Can you believe that? The mayor - of all people!" Cecilia would exclaim one moment. And in another, she would ramble, "The weather's been clearing up over the past few days. Wouldn't you agree? I've never seen such sun!"

Beaux nodded at the appropriate times and would casually ask for Meliah's opinion, but Meliah was as soundless and rigid as a log. He would desperately camouflage the question into a cough just to fill the awkward silence that followed.

Cecilia brought up their childhood once she was through discussing current events. She asked, "Oh, remember Beaux, remember? When I lost my favorite ribbon at that fair? I was so upset! And you searched all night to find it? And you did! You were such a dear."

She laughed when Beaux wrinkled his nose. "It was extremely difficult," he said teasingly, "I don't ever believe I've received my reward."

Cecilia pretended to ponder her options before answering, "Of course. How about several boxes of chocolate? It's your favorite _food_ (I use that term loosely by the way)! You love the Swedish ones the most, I know."

"Chocolate?" Meliah mumbled to herself. Cecilia ignored her.

"Yes, did I not tell you?" Beaux asked brightly. Meliah ignored him.

Several minutes passed in this fashion. Cecilia and Beaux caught in their reveries; Meliah interrupting every memory with a horrified confirmation. Afraid that he was the cause of her discomfort, Beaux excused himself from the table. He did not catch the bewildered expression on Meliah's face as he left. Vincent followed, leaving the two girls alone.

Cecilia watched Meliah bemusedly for a while. Meliah was keen on avoid eye contact at eye costs; she occupied herself with her silverware.

"So, do you love Beaux?" Cecilia asked suddenly.

Meliah, taken aback by the abruptness of the inquiry, dropped her fork on her plate. Although it clattered noisily, Cecilia did not even flinch.

"I'm getting married soon," Meliah said bitingly, "Not that 'tis any of your business."

"That wasn't the question," Cecilia responded with an unfaltering smile.

"It's getting rather late," Meliah said, "I should best be heading home." She stood up ungraciously from the table.

"If you're not in love with him," Cecilia began; her voice starkly contrasted with her blithesome façade, "I will ask you to let him alone. I am tired of having to see him tormented by you."

"It's getting late," Meliah repeated. She ran out of the dining hall.

She was in such a rush to leave the chateau she did not realize she had collided with Beaux until she was sprawled in his arms.

"Where are you going?" Beaux asked. He was alarmed by her disoriented demeanor.

"I'm leaving!" Meliah spat back. "You can enjoy yourself, but I have other things to do. I have things to prepare!"

"What are you talking about?" Beaux asked with a puzzled expression.

"In case you have oh-so-conveniently forgotten, Beaux, I'm getting married tomorrow!" she fumed.

"How could I ever forget?" Beaux sighed regretfully. He stroked her hair to smooth out the curls. "But what's wrong? Did something happen while I was away?"

"Oh no, absolute not!" she said sarcastically. "Everything was wonderful! Why don't you join Miss Cecilia as you clearly want to?"

"Meliah-"

"I am completely serious Beaux. Go! I am sick of putting up with…with you! Go! _She_'s probably waiting. Who knows? Maybe she'll remember some other incident in which you saved her life!"

"Did Cecilia say something that offended you?" Beaux asked with grave concern. His emerald eyes became onyx.

"Did I not tell you everything was fine?! Just leave me alone. Go write her another letter or ask her to buy you some of your _favorite_ chocolates."

Beaux laughed. _My darling Meliah_, he thought, _so easily unnerved._

"Are you jealous?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course not!" she snapped. "Why would I be jealous? I already have Andante, who happens to love me – and me alone!"

Her face was becoming blotchier with every word and her eyes were becoming watery. Beaux knew it would be a matter of time before she began crying. And sure enough, she began weeping into her hands.

"What's my favorite color?" she choked after most of her tears had subsided.

"Rose pink."

"What do I hate the most?"

"Insects."

"What is my favorite food?"

"Crème brûlée."

Meliah heaved a heavy sigh and shuddered as though she had been hit. She looked up at Beaux with a look of clear dismay. Beaux felt his lungs contract.

"How come you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you?"

"What in heaven's name do you mean?"

"How come you never wrote to me?"

"I didn't know what to write."

He knew that was the wrong response as soon as the words left his tongue. Meliah's ire was unleashed. He doubted whether there ever was a "right" response to begin with.

"Oh," she hissed, "But you can write to _her_? I knew it! You _loved_ her and you never told me! I thought you loved… I can not believe you! You deceitful snake! Oh, I can tell by the way you look at her, you love her!"

Beaux was shocked by Meliah's eruption. _Have you ever seen the way I look at you?_ Beaux wondered.

But something about the malicious hatred in Meliah's eyes stirred something inside of him, and he lashed back.

"Have it your way then!" he exclaimed. "So it makes perfect sense to you: _you_ can play with my feelings while in the arms of another, but I have to remain steadfastly loyal to you? I can't have other relationships? But, of course, _you _can have Andante. I can't love Cecilia? Do I have to love _you_ at all?"

He saw the assault before the pain. She had slapped him across the face, and he could feel his cheek becoming hot with the sting. Meliah's eyes had become mere slits on her pallid face. "It appears I have overestimated you," she said viciously before standing up and running out the door.

Beaux sat there, denying what had just occurred. He had lost his temper to the one person he promised he would never hurt. One would have thought he would feel the throb of his heartbreak. But on the contrary, he felt nothing. It was though his heart had ripped itself from his hollow chest to reside with the girl who was now stumbling piteously over his green lawn.

Cecilia came into the entrance hall and she looked at him with woe and sorrow etched in her features. Beaux did not look up as she wrapped him in a cold embrace. His eyes were vacant, dark, and dead. She began crying quietly in his shoulder.

"If it was going to hurt you this much, you should have just told her," she sobbed, "Why didn't you tell her we were cousins?"


	14. Chapter 14: A Thing of the Past

**Finally, a chapter that will explore the past. What indeed transpired between Beaux's father and mother? Not everything is as it seems...**

* * *

Chapter 14: A Thing of the Past

Cecilia looked at Beaux tentatively through her long, brown lashes. He was sitting across from her at the table, but with terrible form. He slouched forward and was nearly collapsing unto the glossy finish of the oak. She wanted to make sure he was prepared to engage in a serious conversation, but judging from what she was seeing, she doubted it was good time.

Beaux let out another strangled sigh, and Cecilia winced. She had watched him grow up as an infant, and never had she seen him so vulnerable. It was shocking – the change that was brought over him. True, Beaux had always been a serious, firm child, but he was never brooding or sulking. 

Cecilia was the one to break the silence. "Beaux, please, talk to me?" 

"I apologize, Sisi," Beaux mumbled incoherently, "I'm not quite sure I have anything to say." He fell forward completely and rested his blonde head on the table. He groaned again and as though answering an internal question, shook his head hopelessly. His fingers tapped impatiently on the hard surface.

"You should," she retorted darkly. "Explain this!" Cecilia tossed a thin, cream-colored envelop at him. 

Beaux groggily straightened himself and stared blankly at the address. "Did I send you this?" he asked.

Cecilia looked at him, first sympathetically, then irately. "Damn it, Beaux, yes!" she exclaimed as she tore the letter from its beige attire. It trembled in her hands as she read it aloud: "Dear Cecilia, I pray this note will find you in well-being. As for myself, even as I write, I can not claim the same peace of mind. I admit: I am afraid. Never have I been so disturbed, annoyed, petrified, infuriated - oh a million more adjectives come to mind! Can this flimsy sheet retain a pain that I can not begin to describe?

"I desired a confidence, and only you came to mind. I have tried to follow your explicit instructions, but nothing is successful. Meliah has passed somewhere beyond the realm that I can see. Cecilia, I fear for my life, my soul (if indeed I have one!), and my love. I see two options – both terrible and horrendous. I shall lose either way. The first is to let her go. My hand shakes as I write! I have faith that _he_ will not be able to provide for her; he will surrender, and she will return to me. But how can I guarantee that my darling girl shall not already be destroyed? Broken in body and heart? 

"I lean towards the second. I shall eradicate him myself. Murder is not necessary, but should the situation present itself, I do not plan to hesitate. Yet in this path, I risk Meliah's trust. How shall I be able to look into her eyes and speak naught but lies? I -"

"Stop!" Beaux cried. "Stop! I understand! I know! So stop!"

"Beaux!" Cecilia shouted back, "Don't pretend that you are the only one suffering! Have you any idea how painful it is for me? I've watched you grow up! You were such a sweet, optimistic child. And now look at you! Have you thought about your father? Can you imagine the pain that your father is undergoing for you?" 

"My father?" Beaux interrupted sharply. His eyes snapped open before they narrowed testily. "What does he have anything to do with this?"

"Oh, Beaux," Cecilia sighed, "You can be so oblivious sometimes." 

"Care to explain?" Beaux asked coldly. Cecilia glared at him with her golden eyes, but he was unfazed. Ever since Meliah had left a few hours ago, he seemed intent on avenging her by lashing out at Cecilia. 

"Beaux," Cecilia began, "Do you honestly know what brought about your mother's death?" 

"Of course," he answered heatedly, "The man you refer to as my father killed her after he found she had a human lover." Beaux's eyes glistened for moment. "Vincent hates humans," he added as an afterthought. 

"Beaux," Cecilia started again, "Is that what you believe to have been Uncle's motivation? Some personal animosity against humans?"

"Sisi, if you don't stop beating about the bush, I'm not quite sure I would like to discuss this matter." 

"Uncle Vincent loved Aunt Adeline-"

"Don't lie!" Beaux cut in viciously. There was a wild fury in his green eyes that shook Cecilia's resolve, but she was strong. 

"Just listen!" Cecilia commanded stridently as she slammed her delicate palm against the table top with a violent _smack!_ "Uncle Vincent loved her ever since he courted her, and he never stopped loving her through their entire marriage, even after he learned that she was secretly having an affair. Beaux, Aunt Adeline betrayed him – don't you dare try and insist otherwise – I was the one who tried to convince her to stay. I told her it wasn't right, that she was a wife and a mother. She didn't want to hear it."

Cecilia took a deep breath before continuing. She monitored Beaux's expressions carefully. "And then she left," Cecilia said gravely, "She abandoned you, her three-year-old son and her husband of seven years. Your father was devastated, and I saw him change. Oh Beaux, it frightens me so! It's the same change I see in you now!" 

"What are you talking about?" Beaux asked in mock tranquility. He could not mask the horror he was feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

"Your father went insane," Cecilia breathed, her eyes widening drastically, "He could not accept it. He could not live in a world without Adeline. So out of his desperation, he tried to stop her by threatening the death of her lover. Beaux, you're doing that now!" 

"I am not!" Beaux snapped. 

"Yes you are!" she insisted as she grasped his cold pale hands in hers, "Think about it Beaux, really! Could you live without Meliah? Could you ever be satisfied without having her for yourself?" 

Beaux fell silent, pulling his fingers from her hold. He could not respond…because it was true. Yet, surely he would not-

"Your father did not want to kill the other man; it was an accident. He regretted it, but your mother never believed him. She felt deceived, and she became self destructive. She continued to mar herself until Uncle Vincent could not withstand the pressure to relieve her… He killed her out of love."

"A bit oxymoronic wouldn't you agree?" Beaux hissed. 

"Yes," Cecilia replied, "But your father loves you. Uncle Vincent is not fond of humans, but your love for that mortal girl is not what frightens him. What frightens him is that you will fall into oblivion as he had. Beaux, your recent behavior has only served to augment my point. You will hurt yourself trying to attain Miss Meliah."

"I don't care," Beaux said firmly.

"But, we do! If we assume that Meliah falls for you and the two of you desire union, how do you propose we stop the Coven from destroying her?" 

"The Coven? I thought the Coven was dissociated thousands of years ago."

Cecilia shook her head. "No," she whispered, "You just have not been initiated yet. Take it from someone who is far older than you are, the Coven is strict. They do not believe in intermarriages Beaux. When you are initiated next year, they will research you. The discovery of a human love interest will stoke their anger. The Assembly will kill her." 

It was Beaux's turn to shake his head. "I would never let that happen," he said confidently. 

Cecilia looked at him sympathetically. "It's not a matter of ability Beaux. The Coven is terrible, necessary for the coexistence of vampires and humans, but terrible. Perhaps if you transfigure Meliah into one of us, we can undermine the system," she mused.

"I've bitten her once," Beaux said quietly, "I never want to do that again."

Cecilia choked and began coughing severely. "You bit her!" she nearly shouted. 

"Yes," Beaux said, looking at her suspiciously, "Is that bad?" 

Cecilia did not reply, but suddenly expressed her urgent need to use the restroom. Beaux, preoccupied with his plans to apologize to Meliah, forgot about Cecilia's behavior. 


	15. Chapter 15: Side Effects

**A warm thank you to everyone who has reviewed and shown so much support for the story! **

* * *

Chapter 15: Side Effects

When Beaux gathered his coat and gloves to leave for the Lavoirsier's mansion, Vincent cautiously stepped in front of the door, preventing his exit. After what he had just heard from Cecilia, Beaux could not help noting the immeasurable sorrow deep beyond the black pupils in Vincent's green eyes. Yet through Beaux's scrutiny, Vincent's face remained outwardly idyllic, his lips forever curved upwards in a mocking smile and his head tilted to one side as though anticipating a question.

Beaux's voice was involuntarily softer than what he had intended, "What is it, Vincent?"

Vincent's response was quick, a clear sign of premeditation. "Perhaps it is best that you leave Miss Meliah alone for the time being. She has had a difficult day-"

"She's upset, if you haven't noticed," Beaux snapped. "I'm not going to leave her to her wallowing."

"Trust me," Vincent murmured. His tone was persuasively low and assuring. "An overprotective lover will only lose his overprotected love."

Despite his initial endeavor to remain indifferent, Beaux could not stop the words from leaving his tongue, "Hmph! You're one to talk!"

Vincent's smile faltered for a moment and a horrified consternation replaced it. When he spoke, his voice trembled ever so subtly. "Yes, I am."

Regret flooded Beaux's lean body like water through a broken dam. He said no more, but apologetically moved back to the parlor, where Cecilia sat, comfortably, on a large red sofa. She caught the sight of Vincent by the grand entrance and smiled encouragingly, but Vincent only returned her optimism with a mournful frown.

"Your father's right, Beaux," Cecilia said when Beaux reclined half-heartedly on the armchair across from her. She inched forward on her seat as he descended. Her mouth twitched, aching to form words, but no sound came. After a few minutes, she seemed to have lost what she had wanted to say, and shifted uneasily side to side before she resignedly slumped unto the pillows.

* * *

Beaux was in a green meadow. It was the type of grassy utopia that one would associate with the fairy tales of yore. The air was crisp but warm under the dazzling golden sunlight, which filtered through the translucent leaves to throw dappled shadows across his snowy skin. He sighed for everything was so tranquil and beautiful. Birds were chirping. Bees were buzzing.

But his meditation was suddenly cut short when his eyes fell upon a scarlet form a couple yards away. He stood up with effort; his legs felt like wet clay, sloshing and amorphous. The blades of grass parted elegantly as he came next to the figure.

Already, his windpipe was constricting. "Meliah," he choked.

She was clad in red from the cherry ribbons in her braided tresses to the ruby slippers on her feet. Her body formed a remarkably fluid "S" as she lay on her side. There was a looking glass clenched in her right hand and an apple in her left. She was sleeping on a bed of white flowers, which was opaque and smooth enough to pass as a layer of silks. He found himself leaning closer and closer to her face.

But Beaux was not prepared for what he saw. Meliah's skin was flawless like the surface of polished ceramic vase; her black lashes were unnaturally long and thick; her lips, though the same small pout, were smooth and voluminous. This Meliah was so much more beautiful than the real Meliah. Yet there was something about this unrestrained perfection that exuded horror.

He nearly tumbled backwards, trying to create space between their bodies. And without warning, Meliah's eyes opened and Beaux cried out in terror to find that they were burning crimson. Blood so dark it was almost black dripped from her eyes until it slid unto her pallid cheek, leaving a grotesque, coagulated trail. Her mouth opened to speak but more blood spilled from her depths. Soon, Meliah was drowning in her own blood, which seemed to be bubbling from every pore…

* * *

Beaux woke with a start. How long had he been asleep? The curtain over the window kept the room dark, but from the luminescence of the fringes, Beaux could deduce that the sun was high in the sky. He had half a mind to get up when he realized the pressure of a cold hand on his forehead.

"He has a bit of a fever," Cecilia noted. She had not noticed that Beaux's eyes had been open. Beaux closed his eyes once more and feigned sleep, but Meliah's bloody image haunted him as though he were still in the midst of his nightmare.

"Silly child," Vincent murmured in agreement.

"Is it true?" Cecilia asked nervously. She replaced her hand with a wet cloth, and Beaux cringed inscrutably as the water trickled down his neck.

"What is?" Vincent adjusted himself on the couch idly and wound a pale finger in his paler hair.

"That Beaux…_bit_ her?"

Vincent's expression was unfathomable. He was staring at Cecilia but his line of sight was detached as if he was looking into the distance that spanned beyond the walls.

"It's true-"

"Oh my _God_," Cecilia gasped and closed her eyes with realization.

"There is no God," Vincent simply responded.

Cecilia shook her head fervently. Beaux felt the bronze strands graze his face viciously. "He has no idea. Oh, Uncle Vincent, he doesn't know!"

"It's my fault. I didn't think he would be able to…to stop. I had hoped that he would kill her."

"If he knew what was going to happen, he would wish the same!" Cecilia retorted hysterically.

"Who knows?" Vincent mused, suddenly animated, "Maybe he will finally realize that the two of them were not meant to be. You know what they say about troubles. There's no pain that time can't cure."

"Uncle Vincent!" Cecilia admonished. She angrily wagged a finger at him. "How can you say that after seeing him with her? You know it. Beaux can't live without her-"

"Now, now, Cecilia, we don't know that for a fact."

"Uncle Vincent!"

"Cecilia," Vincent began, his eyes misty, "let me tell you something about life. When you've been immortal for so many centuries, you learn a few things. And I have learned that love is ephemeral. It's as short-lived and fleeting as the flowers in the spring, the leaves in the summer, the chill in the fall, and the snow in the winter. A one-sided affection will only bring Beaux pain. And now that Miss What's-her-face is beginning her downward spiral to oblivion, Beaux has little recourse but to let go."

Cecilia was shaking her head again, but Vincent simply looked at her with a small, pained smile – a sliver of its normal self.

"She loves him, too-"

"SO HOW DOES THAT MATTER?!" Vincent bellowed. Cecilia, clearly shocked by Vincent's uproarious reaction, made a hasty move to wipe away the tears that were forming. Immediately, Vincent looked repentantly at Cecilia before moving toward his niece to offer a handkerchief. "I'm sorry," he murmured, avoiding eye contact, "I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. What I meant to say was that there are many side-effects to the bite. We can't be sure what emotions are being wrought by the impact."

"You mean that the bite might _make_ her love him?" Cecilia sounded skeptical.

"Humans are not like us. They are impulsive, emotional creatures. A vampire's bite involves the predator _and_ the prey. The venom that coats our fangs is like a narcotic, better yet, a hallucinogen. The bite will have a psychological effect on her. If not completely, it will drastically augment her attraction to Beaux."

"Oh my God," Cecilia whispered again.

"That's not all, had he bitten her while she was dead, she could have been resurrected as a vampire – immortal and fully cognizant, like us. But Beaux bit her while she was still alive. That girl will turn into a blood-lusting monster with little self-control. The Coven will 'handle' the matter by destroying her. They can't afford to lose their cover."

"If Beaux finds out," Cecilia breathed, "He will be furious! Not to mention, distraught!"

"I don't plan on telling him. But if Beaux desires to save her," Vincent said slowly, "He will need to ally himself with the Coven, ask for their assistance."

"You know, they would never-"

"Exactly."

"How can we stop the transformation?"

"I'm afraid _we_ can't do anything."

Beaux bolted out of his supine position. Cecilia gasped, "Beaux!" And she exchanged a worried glance with Vincent whose grave expression revealed nothing more than pity.

"What is the meaning of this?" Beaux hissed. "What do you mean Meliah's turning into a monster?"

**Author's Notes:**

**Poor Andante has been relatively quiet over these last chapters (I believe someone had mentioned that). He will be making an appearance in the next chapter, but why?**

**Find out! Next time on -- Surreptitious!**


	16. Chapter 16: Delay

REVISED: Thank you iceprincess141414

**_I went over the story - added some things, deleted others. If anyone finds a particular grammatical or spelling error that I missed (and it doesn't seem to be a result of creativity or rhetorical syntax) please let me know. It's hard to notice your own mistakes._**

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**Sorry - this chapter took a while to write (It's a little longer though ). Readers will have to bear with me, I'm afraid in order to get to the good parts we will have to include some substantiating material (I will try my best to elucidate any hazy parts - especially about the upcoming twists. They will take time to develop). I wanted to have this available as soon as possible. I will apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors that may be present.**

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Chapter 16: Delay

Beaux was at the door before Cecilia could stop him, but she caught up with him quickly and formed slender manacles around his wrists with her trembling hands.

"Beaux, please," she begged, "Let's rational about this!"

"Rational?!" Beaux nearly yelled in disbelief. "_Rational_ is when someone accidentally spills their beverage on your favorite shoes. No, _rational_ is NOT when you realize that you've transfigured your woman into a freak!"

"Give it up, Beaux!" She tugged roughly at his arm.

"Let go, Cecilia," Beaux commanded in his most austere tone. He twisted the lock and pulled the door open with his cousin still clinging unto the arm of his sleeve and pleading him to stop.

Beaux came to abrupt halt when he recognized a familiar figure, whose head was bent over a small scrap of paper in his hand. The man straightened up when he heard the two of them bickering. His metallic eyes were wide but somewhat relieved when they caught sight of Beaux.

"Beaux, go back inside!" Cecilia ordered breathlessly. She fell silent upon seeing the boy.

"Mr. Beaux," Andante said, "I apologize if this is a bad time." He bowed respectfully to the two of them.

"And you are?" Cecilia asked with her fair eyes narrowed.

"Andante, Miss." He tensed as she gauged him from his sleek, dark hair to his worn footwear. In his hurry, he had completely forgotten about how untidy he was. The von Chatillons dominated a vast majority of the wealthiest families in the entire region. As proud as he was, Andante could not help but feel embarrassed, standing outside the grandeur of the chateau in nothing more than his working clothes.

Unexpectedly, Cecilia flashed him a gorgeous smile and tossed back her long, chesnut-colored hair. She held out a hand, to which Andante hesitantly pressed his lips. His expression did not betray his confusion. The boy had no idea whether or not he was expected to treat her kindly or indifferently.

"Cecilia Mansart, Beaux's cousin" she enunciated as she eyed his throat with a look that bordered lust. Andante tried to smile, but his endeavor produced a twisted grimace. Cecilia suggestively leaned back and curled a lock of her hair with a gyrating motion of her fingers. This did not go unnoticed by Beaux who subtly elbowed her in the ribs. She defiantly stuck out her glowing lower lip.

Andante's gaze, however, shifted to Beaux quickly. "Mr. Beaux, this is kind of urgent. It's about Meliah-"

Cecilia's smile evaporated, and a concerned frown appeared in its stead. "Meliah?" she interrupted incredulously, "You mean, you're-?"

"Will you excuse us?" Beaux inquired Cecilia in mock courtesy as he pushed her rather forcefully into the house and slammed the door shut.

It was a habit. Beaux subconsciously began to comb his pale hair with his fingers. He smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt and looked at Andante for a brief comparison. Beaux's body began to relax as he noted the messy stains on the hem of Andante's pants and the disheveled look of his hair.

"What happened?" Beaux asked. Despite his boldest attempts to keep his voice even, Beaux found that his trepidation was blatant.

Andante wrung his hands together and desperately tried to verbalize his stance in the perfect way. He began slowly, "Did Meliah see you yesterday?"

For a moment, Beaux was at a loss. _Yesterday?_ He looked at the sky, which blinked back at him in its cerulean splendor. It was late morning. _Saturday!_

"Yes," Beaux answered slowly, "As matter of fact, she did."

Andante's face crumpled a bit, but he pressed on. "Did something…_bad_ happen?"

Now it was Beaux's turn to look uneasy, and his mind worked furiously to concoct a scenario. _What am I supposed to say?_ He thought desperately. _Well, sir, nothing noteworthy. Unless you would consider being bitten by a vampire to be serious… Oh, and did I mention, there's a high possibility that the victim's psyche has been addled? _

Beaux formed his words carefully, "We, that is, Miss Meliah and I, had a...a disagreement." Beaux scowled. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage Andante.

"I see," Andante murmured. He did not seem as delighted about the news as Beaux expected. The soft muffled shuffles of Andante's sole-clad feet reached its climax before he finally spoke again. "Mr. Beaux, Mel- excuse me, Miss Meliah has decided she would like to delay the, er…marriage."

The consternation on Beaux's face must have been noticeable because Andante asked him if he was all right. Beaux nodded speechlessly.

_Meliah told him to delay their plans to elope?_

"Is she at home?" Beaux asked. He sighed dispiritedly as Andante began shaking his head.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier have been working on a charity project for an insane asylum. Meliah has gone with them today, but she will be back by Monday."

"I suppose I shall have to wait," Beaux said. He looked at his watch and heaved another heavy sigh. It was only 11:00 in the morning. How was he to spend the agonizing hours until Monday?

"The real reason I came to see you Mr. Beaux was because Meliah was behaving very peculiarly," Andante blurted.

"What do you mean by _peculiar_?" Beaux cut in sharply. Andante glanced anxiously at Beaux's furrowed brow and shifted his weight cautiously to his other foot.

"Well, when she came home, she was a wretched mess. She was walking in a slow, dazed way – like a sleepwalker mumbling in her dreams. When I approached her, she was humming to herself in a low, whisper. She didn't appear to see me. So I stopped her, and she looked at me with eyes, glassy, vacant, and _red_. Then…" Andante stopped. He seemed to searching Beaux's countenance for some sign of recognition. He only found horror.

"Then what?" Beaux breathed.

"Suddenly, she went ballistic, clutching unto me like some drowning animal. She kept repeating your name, Mr. Beaux. She was back to normal a minute later, but her presence gives off an aura of madness. Mr. Beaux, I fear something traumatic has – to say it in euphemism – affected her."

"Oh." Beaux could say nothing more profound.

"I am, sir, in no way accusing you," Andante corrected, but his voice was already growing bitter. "I am only putting two and two together. Meliah visits you and returns in less-than-perfect condition. Mr. Beaux, let us be perfectly honest to one another."

Beaux returned an uneasy glance, but nodded mildly. Despite what he had claimed, Andante sounded extremely accusatory.

"I may not be a wealthy aristocrat as you are, sir, but I am no simpleton. I know that you, er, care about her in a way that is not so different from my own feelings for her. So-"

"-so you would think that I would help you in her best interest?" Beaux finished.

Andante's eyes, which had been nervous and timid moments before, hardened, and his lips curved into a thin, somewhat scornful smile. "Yes," he answered. "As you may already know, there would be little that would force me into your presence."

"Does that make us rivals?" Beaux asked casually. He was not interested in whether Andante saw their relationship as a competitive one, but he wanted to make things undoubtedly obvious.

A still silence hung in the air before Andante spoke again. His voice was glacial, "Yes."

"Mr. Andante, you are very observant – I have never doubted that," Beaux began. He nonchalantly stripped the gloves off his hands and tucked them into his pocket. "But perhaps it has never occurred to you that Miss Meliah never wanted to marry you."

Beaux reveled in the defeated haze that permeated Andante's pointed face. He was sure his opponent was busily trying to think of something to say that would be equally as hurtful. Andante failed miserably.

"No, it _has_," Andante irrevocably admitted, "But I wanted to convince her that it was she wanted. For herself. For the both of us." His expression then became unfathomable. Beaux kept trying to guess whether Andante was subtly waving the white flag.

"You should have never forced her to make that choice," Beaux snapped. "I would have never-"

Andante interrupted and his voice was shaking with an emotion that was not reflected in his reserved countenance, "You don't have to. You don't have to force her to make any choice because with you, the choices are clear! Painstakingly clear! Meliah is the only solid part of my life. I don't have any parents or relatives that will accept me. She is the only person who has ever noticed me and returned my feelings. Mr. Beaux, you have everything and I have nothing. Even I wouldn't choose myself over you. How could you expect one silly, confused girl to make that choice?"

"So you are willing to make her life a living hell just as long as you get what you want?" Beaux asked. His temper was steadily rising.

"I never said that-" Andante stammered.

"Yes, but you _did _say that you had nothing," Beaux pointed out. "How can you guarantee Meliah's happiness? How can I possibly back off, knowing full well that you can't give her what _she _wants?"

"Money isn't the only thing that matters!" Andante retorted. His eyes were incredibly dark as he glowered at Beaux's white face.

"Then love? Do you think you can love her more than I can?" Beaux asked softly.

This time, Andante did not hesitate, "Yes. I can."

"Oh, don't fool yourself!" Beaux barked. "You have _no_ idea-"

"I _have _an idea Mr. Beaux! This is the one thing that I've ever truly wanted! This is the one thing that I feel is worth something – for a damn change! I don't want to lose her!"

Beaux had had enough. He angrily resisted the urge to strike Andante by slamming his fist into the marble pillar that adorned the facade of the chateau. Andante took a wary step back as a rather large piece of stone crashed unto the steps. It was foolish of Beaux to flaunt his inhuman strength, but at the moment, only rage and irritation dictated his actions.

"Selfish! Selfish desires!" Beaux bellowed.

For the briefest moment, there was understanding etched in every feature of Andante's face. But there was also fear, and it appeared to be boiling within his body.

When Andante spoke, his voice was a mere whisper, "I guess I should not have come to you for help."

"No, I have no intention of helping _you_," Beaux said; his voice was sour.

And Andante left without another retort.

Beaux wandered back into the chateau. The guilt was bubbling in his chest like a fresh spring. It was true Andante had pushed a few nerves, but there was never any need to lose his temper. _Stupid fool! _Beaux lamented. He should have thought about what was more important: Meliah.

His mind was muddled in a thick fog of confusion. He had little understanding of the side-effects of a vampire bite on a dead person. He had _less_ knowledge of how a vampire bite may affect a _live_ human. These problems had never hindered him before. Then again, had he ever been in love before? Had he ever been more susceptible to emotional deterioration?

But there were other forces at work. He was completely oblivious to the power and authority of the Coven. All Beaux knew for sure, was that everything, the Coven, the bite, and Meliah were now connected. Once again, thanks to him.

Cecilia was waiting patiently in his bedroom with a glass of water on a tray. She handed him the water as he sat next to her. Beaux found himself repeating what Andante had told her, even before she asked him. He had grown so accustomed to sharing his thoughts with her that it seemed only natural to disclose the details. Thankfully, Cecilia did not interrupt the flow of his memory.

When he finished with a disheartened note, he found her at the doorway, slipping on her coat and placing a lavishly decorated hat on her head.

First she was jocular, "I can't believe that Meliah-girl! I swear it's always the plainest girls that actually _get_ the men! You _and_ that catch?"

"Are you referring to Andante?" Beaux asked wearily.

"Yes, ugh! Most delightful creature! I bet he tastes wonderful!" Cecilia rolled her eyes in frustration.

"I'm just as eager to have him dead-" Beaux interjected menacingly.

"No, no, he's off limits now."

Beaux shrugged, but Cecilia looked at him seriously.

She spoke firmly, "Beaux, keep a close eye on that girl. No matter what! Do you hear?"

"Where are you going?" Beaux asked in bewilderment, following her as she walked into the room next door to reclaim her baggage. Cecilia pulled out a notebook from the large front pouch of a leather trunk and handed it to him.

"I'm going to the Coven House. It's on the other side of the country. I will be gone for a while. Give me some time to sort these hmm – dilemmas."

"And this?" Beaux lifted the notebook to her eyes. She hit it once with a lacquered index finger.

"I have a few addresses in there. Other "nocturnal" families, if you get my drift, that you might find help from."

Everything was happening so quickly. Beaux could hear the urgency in Cecilia's normally mellow tone. He could only nod.

"That's my boy!" Cecilia complimented. She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "Stay incognito. Good luck!"

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**Ugh, fillers are terribly inconvenient! But I can guarantee that the next update will be a little more exciting!**


	17. Chapter 17: Bad News

Chapter 17: More Bad News

Chapter 17: Bad News

Sunday morning.

Beaux had become extremely unproductive over the past day, floundering and meandering without respite. Every hour was an arduous chore. The anxiety, the tension, and the vat of nervous anticipation swirled in the pit of his stomach until he collapsed half-heartedly on the sofa or vomited distastefully in the privacy of his bathroom.

He was not yet used to the internal paroxysms ("I am a vampire for God's sake!") and he quickly found that there was little he could to do ease each passing. The erratic spurts of purple-red blood from his mouth and the fainting spells became more and more frequent.

Beaux looked exasperatedly at the chiming ebony clock on his windowsill: 10:00 in the morning.

_How can I endure another minute of this torture?_ Beaux thought as he pulled his arms around his knees and leaned back against the wall. _Oh, Meliah, I simply cannot live without you! Come back, please. Quickly! Monday, Monday!_

Vincent tried to feign disinterest, but Beaux caught him peeking curiously at him through the slim cracks of open doors or parted curtains. A few times, Vincent casually offered his suggestions: "You should drink up, Beaux" or "A walk would be wonderful for your indigestion."

Beaux never heeded any of his father's advice. His body simply did not want to cooperate. He did not want to move. He did not want to consume. If Meliah did not return soon, Beaux secretly feared he would become completely disabled.

A soft rustle on the other side of his bedroom door alerted him to Vincent's presence. The sleep-deprived night had left Beaux weary and exhausted, but that did not inhibit the feeling of self-loathing. His prolonged charade of childishness was exacerbating the situation more than necessary. So, he decided to humor Vincent.

"Can I help you?" Beaux asked loudly. He heard Vincent chuckle as he opened the door and stepped in.

"So you knew I was here?" Vincent asked lightly.

"It's impossible not to," Beaux answered.

Vincent swallowed another chuckle and pointing to the gardens outside his window. "How about that walk I suggested yesterday? It's a beautiful, bright day. Why don't you take a stroll before the sun becomes too hot?"

"I suppose a walk wouldn't hurt," Beaux assented. He winced as pulled himself to his leaden feet. His body felt as though it would collapse like a house of cards under the slightest amount of pressure.

Nevertheless, Vincent looked at him fondly, and Beaux was instantaneously filled with gratitude. A parent's love and guidance was a precious thing, he realized. Perhaps as Cecilia had insisted, Vincent _did_ care about Beaux after all.

Suddenly, Vincent's mouth parted and a slight slur of words rushed out, but nothing was phrased and formulated clearly enough for Beaux to understand. Beaux glanced at Vincent apprehensively because it seemed he was trying to make another point about why he should desert Meliah. But thankfully, Vincent lapsed into a acquiescent silence before ushering him out into the yard.

Beaux sat under the shade of a willow tree, whose exotic branches hung lazily from its elegantly gnarled trunk. The tree's woeful, crestfallen image called to him, and he soon found himself sprawled at its bark-covered feet, inhaling and exhaling laboriously. Vincent was right. He did feel a little less disoriented under the tender wing of the outdoors. The droning of the bees, the vivid pigmentation of the roses and poppies, and the crisp gust quickly cleared the blurry vision he had developed during his cocoon-period in the mansion. But his anxiety was only mildly compressed.

When an hour had passed, Beaux found that even sitting still had its negatives. His mind was traveling miles away, searching aimlessly for that elusive girl who so often haunting his soul. Beaux also reflected critically on the past, causing the veins in his head to throb with the stress. He tried to subtract Meliah from the equation to try and balance what his life had become. But in the end, he contentedly concluded that if he had never known her, his life would be meaningless. As romanticized as it sounded, he would rather suffer for love.

To keep his brain occupied, Beaux walked toward the front lawn. Maybe he could people-watch from the porch. He smiled to himself when he caught sight of the grey newspapers stuck in the rigid fingers of the rose bushes. The local paperboy could never aim the news through the gate for as long as he had lived in the house. Beaux came to expect his paper hidden under a pile of leaves or caught in a plant.

He gingerly pulled the wad from the thorns as to save the sheets from tearing. He read the bolded headline under a picture of a large, white building: MENTAL HOSPITAL SUFFERS CARNAGE.

Apparently some asylum in the western province had been assailed by a mysterious serial killer. Three mentally disturbed patients were found mutilated and dismantled in their beds. Curiously, the murders were clean and there was little trace of blood or incriminating evidence. Beaux was halfway through the article when he remembered something Andante had said.

_Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier were at an insane asylum for a charity project…_

Beaux rabidly scanned the papers, and indeed, there was a brief mention of the Lavoirsier's charity banquet that was held on Saturday.

"Oh my Lord," Beaux found himself gasping. The newspaper began to creased beneath his clenched fingers.

_It was Meliah!_ She had already undergone the "transformation" and was murdering other human beings to slate her uncontrollable thirst. Just as Vincent had prophesized…

All sorts of visions were dancing across his mind. Meliah seducing the poor men as he, too, had done on countless occasions to earn his meals… Meliah ripping apart a body to feast on the blood bubbling from the flesh… Meliah stained… Meliah gone.

Beaux was hyperventilating when he reached a small vendor on the corner of Main Street. He lifted the front page so the pink-cheeked old man could see the headlines. "Do you know anything about this?" Beaux asked.

"Uh," the man spluttered, leaning closer to get a better view. "I heard the police suspect it was that one man. What was his name? You know, the one, who killed those poor girls in Vinlin?"

"Anything else?" Beaux pressed.

The man's face became sanguine as he concentrated. "No, sir. If you're really interested, I'd try the Lavoirsiers. They came back a few hours ago."

"Excuse me?" Beaux demanded in shock. _They were not due until Monday!_

"Yes, sir. They were doing charity things for that ward. But you can't _imagine_ they'd stay after what happened! No, sir! They were concerned for their daughter. You see, she's still a child! I saw her a while ago with her parents. Looked pretty shaken if you ask me-"

The man stopped and looked up. Beaux had disappeared in the midst of blacks and browns and people.


	18. Chapter 18: Accidents

**A special thanks to the following reviewers, who have been there to support and critique me:**

**iceprincess141414**** and ****Sanriko**

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Chapter 18: Accidents

"Watch where you're goin'!" a vendor exclaimed hotly as Beaux whammed into his shoulder. A mountain of fruits and a handful of vegetables tumbled unto the crowded city streets while bruising and smashing spectacularly.

"Sorry sir," Beaux apologized hastily. Without a second thought, he dropped to his knees to collect the fallen wares. Beaux's humility must have surprised the salesman, who smirked smugly upon seeing Beaux's expensive pants stained with tomato juice.

"Now _look_ie here!" the vendor hooted, "What's a nice feller like you doin', helpin' me out?"

Beaux scooped up an apple and wiped its scintillating surface on his sleeve. "It's no problem sir," Beaux murmured, glancing at the man's widening grin.

"Well sir, I thank you! It ain't easy findin' young people with manners! These days, no respect for the old," the man sighed as he leaned against his wooden cart and wiped his crooked nose on his sleeve.

"Perhaps you could tell me the time, sir?" Beaux inquired anxiously.

"Lemme see," the vendor looked up at the sky and squinted, "I say, one or maybe two o'clock."

Beaux nearly tripped in his rush, "Thank you sir. Please-" He shoved a thick pile of bills into the man's sweaty palm "-use this to cover the expenses."

"Hey there!" the vendor called.

Reluctantly, Beaux turned around. He needed to get the Lavoirsier's mansion soon, and quite frankly, he did not have the leisure time to be conversing with strangers.

The man tossed Beaux a ripe tomato and smiled, "Thanks for the help!" He pointed at the tomato as Beaux eyed it with uncertainty. "It's good for you!"

Beaux waved back at the vendor and raced off.

To avoid the suspicion of others, he ducked into the dark allies that connected the whole city. In the privacy of the shadows, Beaux was free from all restraints. He broke into an inhuman sprint and nearly flew across the cobbled streets. It took him five minutes to reach Meliah's home.

Beaux rang the doorbell twice, but he soon resorted to knocking impatiently when no one came to answer him. "Meliah!" he cried frantically. "Please open the door!"

He had half a mind to scale the side of the building (which would have been a simple task, considering he was fully equipped with both super strength and agility) when his hand accidentally slid against the doorknob and the door creaked open. Beaux stepped inside and realized that the door had been unlocked the entire time.

The emptiness of the front hall exuded a palpable essence of negative premonition. Beaux felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. The air was stagnant like the musty interior of a box that had been left in the attic for several decades. The only light source was the window at the far end of the hall. Even the sunlight felt cold and distant, filtered through the dust and darkness.

Beaux's feet moved automatically towards Meliah's bedroom on the second floor. He glided over the rugs and wooden boards without making a single noise. Only the demanding stares of the men and women within the ebony confines of their picture frames witnessed his movements.

It was subtle but distinct. A ragged panting was gradually filling the length of the corridor with tremor. The gasps were soon accompanied by an occasional moan, which sounded like someone was enduring unbearable torture…or immense pleasure.

The notion forced Beaux to draw back and close his eyes. He was frightened of whatever was there on the other side of the door. Even the mere possibility of intruding on a private, shameful scene seemed to tug at his limbs, dragging him, invisibly, away from the source of the noise. Beaux collapsed on his rear, staring blankly at the door and unable to make a decision.

Meliah was there. He knew it. And so was Andante. The boy's pungent scent was _everywhere_.

The groans were suddenly louder and more painstakingly emitted. Beaux covered his ears with his hands, gathering his body closer to himself until he was huddled like a ball. Yet the whimpering from the bedroom did not stop. Now, Beaux could feel something else resonating along the wood beneath him. There was a soft, continuous thudding as though someone was knocking on the floor. Beaux's hands dropped limply into his lap, and he was forced to listen to the brouhaha again for 10 seconds... 40 seconds…

Suddenly, Beaux jolted to his feet in surprise as he felt a warm, sticky liquid trickling against his chest. He realized that he had been clutching unto the tomato in his pocket with such brutality that the fruit had exploded, leaving massive scarlet stains all over his white shirt.

Taking advantage of this sudden mobility, Beaux turned to leave. But his body had other intentions. Out of a sudden burst of fury and betrayal, he yanked the door wide open. He tried to tell himself that he was prepared for the horror; a cruel image of Andante and Meliah entwined in each other's arms forced him to wince even before he had caught sight of anyone.

Yet what Beaux saw was beyond any horror he could possibly imagine.

The first thing Beaux recognized was the intoxicating stench of blood. The floor was obscured by a thick pool of crimson, and even the walls were splattered with flecks of the drying liquid – rusty and brown against the otherwise spotless surface. The smell seemed to expand once it passed through his nostrils. His brain was enveloped in a cloud of delicious syrupiness. Cecilia had been right; the boy _did_ smell pretty wonderful. Beaux moved like lightning.

In the middle of the room was Andante, using every last bit of his strength to pound against the floor. Beaux's astonishment temporarily muted his desire to feed. The thudding that he had heard earlier was a cry for help.

Beaux nearly exclaimed in terror when he saw that every inch of Andante's flesh was torn open, scratched, or bitten as though he had been ravaged by a wild animal. The odd angle and form of Andante's long legs clearly indicated that they were broken, if not completely fragmented.

Deftly, Beaux knelt down and carefully pulled Andante's head into his lap. He inhaled stridently. Three long strips of skin had been peeled from Andante's one-handsome face right across his left eye. Judging from mottled blood along the rim of the eyelid, Beaux realized that the eye had been gorged from its socket.

_Oh God! Meliah!_ Beaux thought. He whirled fervently in place, and gave a fleeting sigh of relief when he saw the fluffy pink dress peeping out from the bed. She was unconscious, but otherwise unharmed.

But _this_ image was even more troubling. Meliah was completely unscathed, and yet Andante…

"Help," Andante's spluttering interrupted Beaux's presentiments, "Help." Andante's voice, which was usually so stunning, was now choked with eruptions of blood and spittle.

Beaux grabbed Andante's head between his pale hands and whispered encouragement, "I'm right here."

Andante clutched unto Beaux's wrist, nearly cutting off his circulation. "It hurts," he moaned.

"Who did this?" Beaux asked breathlessly. He knew the answer the moment Andante squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled aggressively. "Oh no-"

"Please," Andante panted, "It wasn't her fault. She's been possessed-"

"Shhh!" Beaux hissed. Andante was having great difficulty speaking, and Beaux saw why. Besides suffering an unbelievable loss of blood, Andante had a deep wound that punctured his lung. The flesh around the gaping hole was exhibiting a gross array of yellow and green hues in between the red.

_The boy will not survive_, Beaux concluded solemnly. Andante's labored breaths only served to affirm his predictions.

But for some strange reason, Beaux could not find the hate and resentment he had harbored only hours before. In his heart, there was only the mawkish sympathy and sorrow that a sibling would display for the passing of his beloved brother. An unexpected tear crept from his eyes, and Beaux nearly jumped in surprise when the droplet fell unto Andante's face. Whether Andante was chuckling or choking, he could not discern.

"Are you sorry?" Andante asked quietly.

Beaux was caught off guard by his question. Andante sounded jocular – not in the least bit spiteful. There was even a small, warped smile on his pale lips.

_No!_ Beaux wanted to spit. _No! Why on earth would I feel the least bit sorry for you? _

But the words did not come…simply because they were not there. Beaux was sorry. No, he was beyond apologetic or remorseful. There was something at the back of his mind that kept blaming him. _You killed Andante!_

When he had consciously plotted the murder of Meliah's lover, he had felt confident if not excited about the impending doom of that silly boy. But now…now that it was a reality, Beaux realized that he would have never been able to kill him – never. Cecilia knew this. Vincent knew this. It was simply not in his nature.

"Yes," Beaux answered sincerely, "I am."

Andante's laughs became coughs. He wheezed heavily until he was motionless on the floor. His closed eyes and peaceful expression juxtaposed the morbid gashes that bared the soft innards. "You know what?" Andante asked. Exposing the raw tendons in his neck, he nodded to himself as Beaux waited patiently for the answer. "I truly love Meliah. And even though it kills me, no pun intended, to have to see her with someone else, I'm glad it's you."

Beaux could not answer. He could think of nothing to say that would have been appropriate.

_He does not know_, Beaux sighed in his head. _I've _killed_ him! My selfishness and ignorance… What am I supposed to say now? "Thank you"? "You're welcome"?_

When Beaux finally edged closer to Andante to murmur his condolences, a wave of putrid odor smacked him squarely in the face. _He's dead._

A dead man's blood does not smell the same to a vampire. Immediately, the vitality that had once made the delicacy so desirable evaporates in a fraction of a second, and all that is left is sick, unpalatable juices.

Beaux had to back off, even if it meant abandoning Andante's body on the floor. The smell was unbearable.

But the corpse, so disrespectfully cast aside, only poked at Beaux's unsteady conscience. So he took a deep breath of fresh air before winding his arms under Andante. The body almost appeared to fall apart at the seams. The skin was so fragilely flayed and twisted. Pulling the body unto the sofa, which was instantly soiled beyond repair, Beaux crumpled.

A strangled sob escaped his throat, and Beaux sat there with his head pressed against the floor and palms turned upward as in prayer. Everything was so cold…

"My goodness!" a high voice pierced the stagnant air like shattering glass. Beaux's eyes darted toward the bed, where Meliah sat nonplussed, looking directly at Andante's carcass and then at Beaux's red-stained shirt.


	19. Chapter 19: Lies

Chapter 19: Lies

Chapter 19: Lies

Beaux's breath was held forcibly like an explosive in the back of his throat. For a second, Beaux was relieved – relieved to find that Meliah had not changed. He scrutinized her face. Though it was drained of color, the pinks and peaches he so hopelessly adored, Beaux could see the blemishes again. There was the small white scar underneath her left eye and the dappled areas, still healing from its pubescent stages.

"Oh my goodness! Oh my – oh my, no, NO!" Meliah's shrieks ebbed into spurts of breathy sobs. She looked at Andante's damaged form as though her eyes could not be diverted. Tears streamed down her cheeks from her unblinking eyes. They were dark and brimming with disbelief.

Yet there was another emotion, growing larger and stronger beyond her ebony irises. Beaux could see accusation. She thought _he_ had murdered Andante. She did not remember. Anything…

Fear replaced his relief. There was an almost dangerous edge to Meliah's rigid posture. She was trembling uncontrollably as her satin dress rustled like a heap of fallen leaves.

"You killed him," she whispered in a flat voice. Beaux began to shake his head, but that only stoked her fire. "YOU KILLED HIM!" Meliah screamed again. She tore at her hair and howled in dismay. A crimson slipper ricocheted off her right foot as she kicked her legs in a childlike tantrum.

"Meliah," Beaux murmured in comfort. He forced himself to stand and plop himself, rather ungracefully, on the edge of her tousled bed. Meliah did not look at him – her eyes still transfixed on the dripping blood and exposed flesh.

Beaux gently pulled Meliah into his arms, attempting to shield Andante from her view. He inwardly marveled at the mint condition of her clothes. Even an experienced hunter like himself had difficulty keeping clean during a meal. There was not a drop of blood anywhere.

But his shallow bewilderment was abruptly broken by Meliah's angry struggle. Initially, she pounded against his chest with her fists, but when she realized these fits were not very effective against his rock-hard body, she resorted to assaulting his face. She struck her open palm against his cheek. "Don't. Touch. Me," she hissed, separating the words distinctly with each gasp.

If she had been avoiding eye contact before, she was not anymore. Her eyes were shot with red streaks and glowing with rage and disgust. Beaux's heart gave a terrible lurch as he shuddered under her infuriated gaze. She had never looked at him this way before.

His hands lost their stronghold around her waist, and he let her flee from the horrid room. Meliah's steps diminished as she cantered into the hall. "Mama!" she cried. "Papa!" Her voice echoed even after she had gone.

Beaux sighed as he lay down on the soft mattress. He closed his eyes, trying to reflect on the events that had occurred. Everything was a blur – a whip of colors, words, and tears that he could not place into any single category.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror across from the bed. _Oh that mirror!_ Beaux lamented silently_. How often had I watched myself next to Meliah on those autumn days when I came to visit? How long ago…? _

But now, his glassy image disappointed him. Beaux, though hesitant to admit it, was amazingly vain. And his overwhelming pride had done little over the years to curb the inflation. Perhaps, Beaux thought, it was time to wean off the praise.

There were dark, purple circles under his sunken eyes, making him look unhealthy and sleep-deprived. He sighed. The green of his eyes were swallowed by the shadows under his brow and his skin looked pale and raw as though it had been severely chafed by winter winds. His hair was lank and dull – not golden, but brown.

Beaux turned away from his reflected self, gazing at him with its lonely eyes and lifeless body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, only to find he was choking with the scent of stagnant blood.

Then his breath stopped altogether when he heard a piercing scream from down the hall. He jerked off the bed and stampeded toward Meliah's fervid cries. The house never seemed so black and endless as it did then.

Beaux nearly collapsed upon what his eyes saw next. He had never anticipated this.

A double homicide.

Meliah was shrieking and clutching the wall with her starched hands. Her face was completely red now from crying. Even the whites of her eyes were stained pink. Her skin looked irritated by her constant tears.

But how could Beaux blame her for lamenting? The murder of her lover was tragic enough, but to find that her parents had been killed as well…

Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier were in the same predicament as Andante, but they had met their dooms hours before. The room was thickly permeated with the stench of excrement and death. There were flies, ants, and other small insects that had managed to track down the odor. Now, the two bodies were reduced to buzzing, vibrating black masses. Beaux cringed as he scuttled to Meliah's side. She did not seem capable of looking away from the horror, as though she needed to burn the image into her head in order to believe it.

Meliah's breathing was increasingly ragged, and Beaux watched with concern as several times, her eyes rolled heavenward. She would faint any moment.

"You killed them?" Meliah asked. Her voice was a whisper, but it was not a question.

This was different from her reaction before. The heartbreak was beyond anger now; it was incredible grief and anguish. Beaux forced himself to maintain composure.

"How could you?" Meliah continued, desperately trying to stop her voice from cracking, "How could _you_ do this to me? Oh, Beaux, how could _you_?"

Her hair had fallen out of its original shape. It hung around her slender form like an ebony curtain. She was so close to the bodies, Beaux feared her unsoiled features would be tainted by the blood and gore. He subtly tried to push Meliah away from the dirty corpses, but she resisted.

"Look at me," Meliah ordered as she pulled his face toward her own until they were less than an inch apart. "Look at me! Tell me it wasn't you!"

Beaux could feel his resolve crumbling. The conviction, the disappointment, and betrayal in Meliah's murky eyes were so potent. He wanted nothing more than to dispel that accusation. To tell her it was not him!

But he bit his tongue quickly. How could he bring that upon this child? This young girl who had just turned seventeen? To have such terrible murder on her conscience, how would she survive the trauma?

_No_, Beaux decided, _I can not ever let her know what she has become. She will be crushed... As much as it kills me to see her like this, I can not bear to see her despise herself. It's not your fault, love. It's mine. All mine. And I won't let you take the blame!_

"I can't do that-" Beaux began. He cast his eyes toward his shuffling feet.

"Oh Beaux!" Meliah screamed. "Oh Beaux! Beaux! No! I _don't _believe you! Why?!"

Beaux's mind worked quickly. He was surprised about how little he had to lie about. "I wanted you for myself. I was jealous of Andante, and I feared you would elope with him."

The words were slurred and hastily put together. Beaux was sorry he did not add more remorse. At the moment, he had been in such a rush to establish a foundation to worry about the details. He sounded cruel and cold.

"But my parents?" she asked feebly. "My Mama and Papa?"

Beaux resisted the urge to console Meliah, who looked so forlorn. He needed to maintain a stoic façade of a serial killer.

"I'm sorry," Beaux murmured.

"Oh Beaux! Beaux!" Meliah cried as she pushed him away. "You didn't have to do this! None of this! You hear? Nothing! You terrible beast! You treacherous snake!"

Beaux was could not fight the impulse any longer. He tenderly smoothed her hair pulled her into his embrace.

"What do you mean?" Beaux asked in mock interest, "Of course I didn't. I don't have to do anything. I chose to do this-"

"I loved you!" Meliah finally spat. "I loved you! I asked Andante to come today so I could tell him I didn't want to anymore!"

Beaux became paralyzed. He had waited for so long just to hear those words, but this was not quite the image he had been expecting.


	20. Chapter 20: Seduction

**I apologize for the delay! I've been very busy lately with the end of the year just around the corner. **

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews everybody!**

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Chapter 20: Seduction

Meliah pushed Beaux gruffly aside before sliding unto her rear on the floor. The blood that had been disastrously obscuring the carcass of her dead parents dripped unto her silken skirts until the cloth was mottled with the crimson liquid. Meliah's eyes widened and out some brief epidemic of insanity, her hands sought the blood. She dipped and weaved her fingers, and soon they were bejeweled with the burning scarlet.

Horrified, Beaux tried to pull her away as she desperately clamored unto the corpses. Even when an arm had detached itself from the bodies, Meliah seemed unfazed. Beaux finally managed to restrain her before she threw herself over the swarming heap of insects and rotting flesh. When he pushed her into the hallway, she leaned heavily against the white walls.

He watched her morosely as her face flushed and palled rapidly with her ragged breaths. Why was his luck always so morbid?

Beaux bent over and pulled Meliah unto her feet. Her eyes were misty and lost somewhere in a region beyond reality. She had surrendered her will and energy, sliding unsteadily beneath Beaux's rigid fingers. Still, he managed to call the stable boy from the window.

"Yes sir?" the young boy answered. His hazel eyes suspiciously scrutinized Beaux's shining, anxious face, but otherwise he did not question the master's order to fetch a ride.

Beaux gently coaxed Meliah into the carriage and gave the boy a fistful of cash to keep his mouth shut. The boy's attention was immediately siphoned off by the money, and he did not give Meliah's disheveled appearance another glance. Not even the blood was enough to distract him.

The following fifteen minutes was pure torture. Meliah was dipping in and out of consciousness. Beaux watched nervously as she suddenly sat up and stared out the window, lips parted and eyes inquisitive. "That…that," she murmured disjointedly as though she was on the verge of remembering something significant. Next minute, she slumped back into the cushy brown seat, her purplish eyelids closing lethargically.

"Come now," Beaux said softly as he helped Meliah step unto pavement of the street in front of his chateau. "We're only steps away. Come."

Meliah obeyed him like a puppet. She grasped his wrists tightly and refused to let go.

"What am I going to do?" Beaux moaned when he saw Vincent skulking behind the entrance. "Whatever you said was going to happen – already happened! Oh Lord, what am going to do?"

Vincent, embarrassed that he had been detected so easily, helped Beaux pry Meliah's thin fingers from his coat. He mildly noted the blood and grim embedded in Meliah's dress.

"She looks awful," Vincent said, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Get her into something clean will you?"

"Can you send them away?" Beaux asked, gesturing toward the kitchen, "We don't need witnesses."

"I've already sent the help home."

"Thank you," Beaux replied tersely, and then more gently to Meliah, "Upstairs."

His room was still rumpled and disorganized since Meliah's last visit, but with the recent turn of events, Beaux figured that a messy room was the least of his worries. Meliah's hand was still clenched like a fist over his arm, but he was able to get her seated and still.

"Don't you want to change?" Beaux asked patiently. "You have to let go of my arm, if but for a moment. Let me get you something. Please."

Meliah's eyes were blank and demonstrated little comprehension, but she must have understood for she lessened her stranglehold. Beaux managed to free himself and scurry to the armoire. He brought back a soft night shift that could serve as a temporary dress.

Beaux eased Meliah out of her pink dress. Underneath she wore a white skirt – that was too translucent to shroud her legs – and a tight corset – that was accentuating her figure – once again, too much. Had the circumstances been different, he would have escaped the room with shame flaming his face. Yet this was not a normal situation. He had a perfect alibi for being alone…with a girl…in her undergarments…

Meliah was looking at the dimly lit gas lamp at the corner of the room and completely unaware of Beaux's inner panic. He bit his tongue to distract himself from the soft glow of her skin in the flickering light. She tilted her head to the side and glanced at the sun setting over the heads of the buildings in the city around them. With a fragile movement, she reached out as if to touch the burning star. He destroyed his craving to pull her hand toward him.

_She needs to change_, Beaux tried to convince himself, _and she's out of her mind. I_ need _to help. _

But when he moved closer, his hands were shaking too severely. His trembling limbs futilely tugged at the top of her corset. When he felt them loosen, he could not continue. Gasping with what he would only admit to be anxiety, Beaux stood up abruptly.

"Here," Beaux choked as he roughly handed the girl his long shift. "Change."

He did not stay to gauge her reaction. Beaux held his breath until he heard the loud slam of the door behind him. In an attempt to distance himself from her mentally, Beaux cantered to the parlor downstairs and fell unto the sofa – sickened by his own emotions.

"You look pretty awful too," Vincent said. He was sitting on an armchair at the other end of the room, gazing at the black sky. "Get something to eat. It's dark now."

Beaux was about to argue, but he hoped that a good feeding would distract his heart from anything else – particularly the dark-eyed girl sitting in his room.

"How long are you planning to stay here?" Beaux asked acidly.

"Aw, Beaux, don't be that way."

"For God's sake, what were you expecting? Me to welcome you here with open arms? I haven't forgotten anything Vincent. You are _not_ forgiven," Beaux hissed.

Now it was Vincent's turn to be angry. "Stop acting like a child Beaux, and maybe I'll stop treating you like one!"

"How am I supposed to act?! Meliah has killed people! Her parents! Andante! God knows what else she has done!"

Vincent's response was matter-of-fact, "I doubt you cleaned up after her. A pile of dead bodies is bound to get _some_ attention."

Beaux's guilty expression confirmed Vincent's assumption. "I was a bit preoccupied!" Beaux snapped.

"I'll handle it," Vincent said softly. He pulled a dark violet ribbon from his pocket and tied his golden hair back. "Go get something to eat."

Beaux's infuriated retort died in his throat. He could not remember why he was so upset with Vincent in the first place. Yes, up until very recently, Beaux had been under the illusion that Vincent had killed his mother out of spite. But now, the man was acting responsible. Beaux had always remembered his father to be a capricious, unpredictable vampire with a toxic attitude. The new Vincent was startling. Maybe, he too was frightened – frightened of Beaux.

Before Beaux could say anything else, Vincent left the house and disappeared at the corner of the street.

With half a mind to return upstairs, Beaux quickly stepped through the door and into the cold air of the night.

He quickly stalked a slight figure into an alleyway. The girl turned around when she caught sight of Beaux's pitch shadow. Beaux stopped in his tracks when he recognized the face. No, he had never met her before, but that face! The young girl had the same features – the dark glimmering eyes, the dainty nose, the doll lips.

For the first time in his life, Beaux hesitated before a potential prey. And his slip proved to be a grave one. She opened her red mouth and screamed upon seeing his amazingly sharp canines. Beaux watched her shriek and cry in wonder and self-hatred. Is this how Meliah would act if she knew what he was? The girl in front of him seemed to sense the danger, and he not even made a move. She scrambled across the stone. Her legs were caught in one another and she stumbled.

The next moment was blur. Her skin was scraped and battered. The exposed blood was enough to startle Beaux's senses. And dizzy with aroma, Beaux pounced on her with feline-like grace and ferocity. He felt her bones shattered beneath him.

She shouted for help, but Beaux's teeth were already deeply punctured in her veins. He wanted to stop but no matter how he tried to, he could not imagine this wriggling mass of flesh to be remotely as important as Meliah. They were not the same and his self control was equally as disappointing. The girl coughed her last breaths.

"Why?" she whispered before dying.

Beaux did not answer the question for he was constantly wondering the same thing. _Why? Why? Why?_ Why was he born a monster?

He came to the chateau looking more worn and beaten then before. His white shirt was soaked through with the blood he had guzzled earlier. He would never have allowed so much to spill. For some reason, he was having difficulty pushing the blood down his throat. _What a waste_, he lamented.

Beaux had nearly forgotten about Meliah's presence when he suddenly heard her spectacular voice, resonating from his room. He halted in front of the closed door in shock.

"I can't undo it myself," she whined teasingly. _Who was she talking to?_ Beaux thought.

"Um, well if you insist miss," the low voice an older boy answered.

The room fell silent for a brief moment before it was lit by an unnaturally high giggle.

"Sorry," the boy murmured.

"That's fine. Now that that's settled, won't you come over here a moment?" Meliah's voice suggested seductively. Beaux had never heard her tone in such a manner before. The smooth rise and fall of the cadences and rhythms left him stultified. He doubted the boy could have refused.

_What was she thinking?_ Beaux questioned darkly. He heard a tumble and thud followed by the delighted chortling of his beloved.

The epiphany struck him too late. Beaux opened the door and his heart gave a terrible lurch as a feeling of deja vu overtook him. Meliah was leaning over the body of the mysterious boy, carefully extracting his blood. His body was mangled and his face torn like a page from a magazine.

Beaux could not contain his outrage. "What the hell are you doing?!" he cried, pulling Meliah off of the body.

When she looked up, her face was bright and beautiful as a monster. The cloudy eyes were replaced with a startling set of dark, red irises. "Beaux," she called happily.

With an elegance and fluidity the old Meliah could only have dreamed of, the new Meliah embraced Beaux before drawing his lips to hers. He wanted to push her away – to lock her away and stop her. But his selfishness only pulled her closer.

His arms wrapped around the night shift he had given her before. _That wretch_, Beaux thought, glaring at the boy on the ground, _he must have…ugh!_ His jealousy consumed him like a wildfire.

"What were you doing?" Beaux asked angrily, breaking the connection.

"Huh?" Meliah asked in mock innocence, "Feeding."

"No – better question," Beaux amended, "What's going on? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Never better," Meliah answered with a halcyon smile.

"No," Beaux said as he finally pushed her aside, "You aren't normal. You can't be. There's something wrong."

"Wrong?" Once again, Meliah's voice was too sweet. She ignored his infuriated gaze and pulled her arms around his waist.

"Yes," Beaux resisted, "This isn't you! You hate me, remember? You don't behave like this!"

He formed manacles around her wrists to prevent her from dragging him closer. "Like this?" she asked as she easily slipped from his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her face hovered centimeters in front of his.

"Yes," Beaux whispered in a shaking voice. Meliah's laughter broke the silence.

She kissed his cheek affectionately. "What about this?" she asked again as she pressed her lips against the base of his neck.

Beaux could barely manage a squeak. He closed his eyes and let Meliah bite him.


	21. Chapter 21: Truth

**I apologize for the wait. It was hefty chapter**

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Chapter 21: Truth

Beaux woke to the sound of twittering birds and a stream of sunlight cascading from an open window. _Was that window open yesterday?_ He wondered distractedly as his hand made a futile attempt to cover the intense light.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over sluggishly, tugging at the white sheets that covered his bare torso. Then, he felt a soft, warm surface against his lips, gently tingling under his breaths. His eyes snapped open.

Beaux gasped as Meliah pulled her arm away in sleepy stupor. She huddled to the opposite side of the bed, leaving in her dreamy wake, a very stunned vampire. He bolted upright and pulled the rest of the sheets around him. How could he have forgotten?

His frantic hands automatically jumped to the neck and confirmed the memories of the night before. Beaux felt his metallic blood crusted unnaturally over a miniscule scar above his collarbone.

Meliah had created a small incision on his neck and extracted his blood for what seemed like centuries (a miracle it was that he had yet the energy left to breathe). His memories flew backwards and he saw the mirrored halves of his life. Beaux had bitten Meliah in this way before. Had she felt this way when he had taken her blood? It was as though her heart and his beat as one, in a ceaseless, rhythmic wave. And he felt his energy being drained from that single exit; his blood flowing backwards to meet Meliah's thirst. When the blood thickened, she became excited and began enlarging the wound with her canines. The sharp sting that each intake had induced was only surpassed by the elation of sacrificing his sustenance to his beloved. Beaux collapsed unto the bed while she greedily devoured every drop.

Beaux turned to gaze at Meliah's sleeping figure. The light exhaling, the small part between her lips, and the expression of tranquility – no trait could indicate her secret, warped nature. Beaux twisted in frustration as she brought her hands over her head and let out a deep sigh of contentment. He could not decide if he liked the other Meliah – the temptress and mischievous fox.

"How could I have let this happen?" Beaux whispered to her softly. Meliah, of course, could not hear him; her mind lost to the surreal wonders of her imagination. Quickly, Beaux took advantage of this opportunity to place a tender kiss on her brow, still damp with perspiration. He pushed her dark locks aside.

"Disgusting," a cold, but familiar, female voice rang from behind him.

Beaux swung around in surprise as Cecilia prodded the corpse of the serving boy with a tentative foot. The blood, thick after setting overnight, had pooled under the flesh, creating a horrifying odor. Cecilia glared at the face of the boy. She expertly gathered the edges of her brilliant caramel skirt and sidestepped the body in a single move.

"An eye, Beaux," Cecilia began, exasperatedly forming an almond-shaped loop with her index finger and thumb, "I asked you to keep an eye on her – not everything else!"

"Cecilia," Beaux breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh?" Cecilia whistled through her teeth. "I apologize. Was I disturbing something rather private?"

Beaux glanced nervously at Meliah and began edging his hand along the edge of the bed in search of his clothes. "Well," he admitted sheepishly, "Yes."

"It looks to me like the 'main course' is finished. So, get up, Beaux, I have news."

With an awkward hop, Beaux slid off the mattress and walked to his armoire for a clean shirt. He caught Cecilia giving Meliah a hard stare before walking out of the room. Beaux could already feel his stomach contracting uneasily as he dressed and met his cousin, leaning cautiously against the copper-colored walls, in the hallway. She looked anxious like a child reluctant to admit that she had broken her mother's favorite vase.

"What is it?" Beaux whispered as he shut the door behind him.

"I went to the Coven House as I said I would. But when I arrived, the tension was beyond the imaginable. There have been some boisterous young fledglings causing a ruckus in the South. The Assembly has temporarily put our – um – situation on hold. So I took the time to do some research."

"What type of research?" Beaux asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"What do you _think_ I researched?" Cecilia snapped as an agitated finger stabbed the air. "Good Lord, _her _case, remember?"

Beaux could not help feeling offended by Cecilia's irritable tone, but he tried to quell her temper. "It's not her fault," he pointed out.

Cecilia rolled her eyes and put an impatient hand on her hips, "I don't give a damn whose fault it is!" she hissed.

"Continue," Beaux coaxed. His voice was soft and gentle but his mounting anxiety was as prominent as ever. Cecilia's eyes became incredibly dark and she pursed her lips into a thin line.

"There have been only three documented cases of vampire bites on a living mortal. All three have enough similarities to lead me to believe that there are clear symptoms, which means we may be able to predict what will become of our curly-haired friend."

"What are the symptoms?" Beaux asked urgently, tugging at Cecilia's hands in plea. She gently wrapped her fingers around his palms and spoke quickly.

"Well, all three instances noted vast shifts in character. The bite creates some sort of an alter ego, bloodthirsty and vicious. Meanwhile, the victim's original personality becomes increasingly disoriented and susceptible to the domineering persona of its so-called 'evil twin.' By biting that girl, you've created another entity, one that is clearly infatuated with you - one that _needs_ you."

"Does that mean that this, other Meliah, thinks she's in love with me?"

"More or less," Cecilia murmured. She looked curiously into Beaux's eager green eyes. "But don't raise your hopes, dear. She's in love with her creator – not necessarily _you_."

"Oh."

"-Which brings me to my next point. Your bite has altered her genetically. Her body's adapted to become parasitic. Meliah will have to drain the blood of other human beings in order to survive, and her other self needs _your_ blood to sustain her mentality – her thirst. She acts like a vampire. But she is not – and I repeat – _not_ one of us."

"I'm confused," Beaux admitted.

"I'm saying," Cecilia spoke slowly, "That the _other_ Meliah only exists as long as you keep letting her feed off you."

Beaux's hand jumped to the scar on his neck. "So if I don't let her drink-"

"Don't you get it Beaux?" Cecilia whispered. Her eyes were downcast and oddly blank. "If you stop her from drinking your blood, Meliah won't have the mindset to hunt her own prey. Then, she, too, will cease to exist. Neither one can live without the other…"

"In heaven's name!" Beaux exclaimed as he pounded an angry fist into the wall. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, Beaux. The cases I read about all had the same result." Cecilia turned her fair face away from Beaux's forceful gaze, but not before he saw a thin stream of tears trailing her glassy cheeks.

"They didn't-" Beaux could not finish his sentence. He felt his heart dropping helplessly from behind his rib cages.

"Yes. All three of the vampires either abandoned or killed their victims."

"Hell!" Beaux spat angrily. "You know I won't-!"

"I know," Cecilia murmured sadly. "I know very well. But there aren't many alternatives. You've created a half-vampire. And the Coven is not tolerant of vampires who Create without permission."

"I'm not going to hurt her," Beaux vowed. "I need to meet the Assembly. I need to do something."

"We don't have a lot of time."

Beaux sighed and ruffled his hair in a frustrated manner. Everything seemed to be getting more and more complicated. This was not exactly the kind of life he had imagined – not for him, not for Meliah. And now the element of time was quickly warping their chances for survival. _Could things get any worse?_ Beaux thought.

"Hello?" a familiar voice echoed from inside the bedroom. Beaux heard a tumble and a muted "Ow!" before the caller resumed her appeal for assistance, "Is someone out there? Please! Hello?"

_I spoke too soon._ Beaux let out an exasperated sigh before slumping over.

"It's her!" Cecilia whispered with an impatient hop. She looked at Beaux's face – desperately in search of some hidden answer. But to her disappointment, his expression was apprehensive. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go!"

With what Cecilia hoped was an encouraging shove, Beaux got uneasily to his feet and opened his room door. He could barely manage to keep his voice even upon seeing Meliah, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing the knee that had been bruised by the mahogany chair. She was his Meliah – the one he had fallen for.

"Are you all right?" Beaux asked as he moved to press his cold hand upon the swelling. Meliah's eyes narrowed until he could only see the glint of her irises. Reluctantly, she adjusted to place her aching leg over his lap.

"I knew this place looked familiar," Meliah finally broke the silence. "What am I doing here?"

"You came with me yesterday, remember?" Beaux murmured her cautiously as he pressed his forefinger against her knee. He did not want to remind her of the deaths. Not now…

But Meliah's eyes were already widening with understanding. "Oh no," she sighed. "Oh no, please no." She squeezed her eyelids together and groaned as though her entire body was in physical pain.

Sick with anticipation, Beaux quickly pressed his hand against her mouth. "Shh," he hushed. "Don't think about it."

Yet, that was apparently the wrong thing to say. Meliah's body became rigid. "Not think about it?!" she repeated furiously as her eyes snapped open. "How can I NOT think about it?! My Mama is dead! My Papa is dead! Andante is dead! They're all DEAD! It's the only thing I can see! All I can see is their bodies, the rotting flesh, the blood-"

"Meliah, please," Beaux begged as she struggled out of his grasp. "This isn't the time."

Meliah rolled her eyes. "Then when is the time?" she growled. "Easy for you to say, you're the one that did this!" She threw a tasseled pillow into Beaux's face. Her hand fervently sought another one but she was interrupted by a shout from the hallway.

"Uncle!" Cecilia's voice was urgent. Beaux looked up in time to see his father pry his arm from Cecilia's delicate fingers.

"You want to put your money where your mouth is, darling?" Vincent asked Meliah from the open door.

"What are you talking-" Beaux's frantic question was quickly cut off.

"Tell me," Meliah ordered Vincent, her eyes alight with a hysteric passion. Beaux reached to cover Meliah's ears, but she nearly clawed his hands in her angry attempt to evade him. Beaux moaned; the gleam in Vincent's eyes was too familiar.

"You killed them," Vincent stated casually, "You killed everybody – not Beaux."

"Vincent!" Beaux screamed. He looked around for Meliah, who was suddenly kneeling in front of him.

Meliah's face had caved. "Beaux," she mumbled, "Is that true?"


	22. Chapter 22: More Divulgence

**Sorry for the wait. Summer is turning out to be a lot more hectic that I expected **

**Thank you for the support!**

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Chapter 22: More Divulgence

Beaux was shaking as though the very earth beneath him was crumbling into pieces. His breaths halted altogether when Meliah vigorously pulled his blanched face between her hot hands. Her dark pupils seared his with their violent stares.

"Beaux," she whispered urgently as her palms grew moist with perspiration, "I asked. Is it _true_?"

"Of course not!" Beaux responded enthusiastically, grabbing Meliah's wrists and prying them from his cheeks. She resisted even when he smiled heartily to encourage his story. "You could never have done-"

A loud, incredulous snort from Vincent cut him off. Meliah twisted her body to face Vincent as he approached the foot of the bed. Beaux glared intensely at his father, who unashamedly, lowered himself to Meliah's eye level and handed her a polished box.

"I'm sure you didn't mean any harm when you tore them apart," Vincent murmured sardonically. He rolled his eyes offhandedly and stood up.

A small but painful whine slipped between Meliah's crimson lips as her eyes widened. "Beaux!" she cried. She fell heavily against the edge of the bed, but her face was desperately determined. "Tell me! It's _not_ true! How could _I_-?"

"Vincent!" Beaux hissed. His fist flew at the back of Vincent's head, but a high whistling in the air proved that Beaux had missed.

"Beaux!" Cecilia screamed from the hallway. She rushed to Vincent's side and put an arm in front of her uncle to prevent him from retaliating.

"You know better than to assault your own father!" Vincent chastised as he stepped back into the door frame. Beaux tensed but let his hands fall at his sides. "That box-" Vincent pointed. "-was the only thing I found worth salvaging."

Meliah pulled her long hair back and slid her arms around the box in silent resignation. "What do you mean?" she asked dejectedly.

"I mean," Vincent began softly – his eyes growing less mischievous and more concerned, "That your house had been set on fire last night."

"What?!" Beaux and Meliah exclaimed simultaneously. The box slipped gracelessly from Meliah's embrace and unto the wooden floors with a low thump.

"You heard me," Vincent replied as he continued with zealous gesticulation. "I can see the headlines now, 'Lavoirsier Mansion Engulfed in Flames, Killing Entire Family and Staff!'"

"Entire family?" Beaux repeated meekly.

"But I'm alive!" Meliah cried indignantly.

"Not anymore," Vincent answered merrily, twirling a lock of flaxen hair between his fingers. "You were dead, as of yesterday."

"How could you?" Beaux spat. "You burned down her home?" Upon hearing the last part, Meliah covered her ears and gasped. Beaux quickly bent down to comfort her, but she backed away from his invitation.

"Tsk, I just took care of the loose ends. That was a favor. Shouldn't you be thanking me instead?" Vincent cut in lightly, "And a better question would be: how could _you_?"

"I hate your stupid games!" Beaux snapped.

"Ha! Games?" Vincent let out a serenade of laughter before retorting, "I thought the games had stopped a while ago! And no one should know that better than you. You, tell that girl right now! Tell her everything!"

"I told you to STOP!" Beaux bellowed. Within a second, Beaux was in front of Vincent – his hand firmly pressed over the latter's smiling lips. Although Beaux had expected surprise or even fear in his father's eyes, he was definitely not anticipating amusement. Vincent was looking directly past Beaux's furious countenance and at the pale girl slowly getting her unsteady feet.

Beaux turned around reluctantly and froze when he caught sight of the expression etched in Meliah's small face. There was rage. There was hopelessness. And there was terror.

"It's you! _You_'re the one hiding something!" Meliah breathed. "_You_ aren't telling me the truth!"

"Meliah, there isn't anything you need to know," Beaux blurted. He knew it was a mistake. For a moment, all she could do was look at her feet and shake with her broken sobs.

"Beaux," she started finally, "I killed them? I killed them. Didn't I? I'm possessed. Is that right? I remember An-Andan – I remember _him_– saying something like that. He told me I wasn't normal anymore…that he could feel it. I'm some sort of monster." Meliah spoke with such misery that Beaux felt his heart give an unpleasant lurch.

_A monster?_Beaux thought sadly. _That's my line, love._

"It's my fault!" Beaux insisted, but Meliah was already shaking her head in dismissal. As she sat cautiously on the floor again, bringing her arms around her knees, Beaux knew what he had to do. He had to let Meliah know that he was not human, but as much as he loved her, he could not trust her completely. She would run…

"If you can't do it, Beaux," Cecilia interrupted suddenly – her voice low and soothing. "I can do it for you. I can tell her." She gently touched Beaux's forearm with a hesitant finger. "I think she deserves that much from us."

Beaux wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at his cousin, convince her that it was not necessary… But his mind was already beyond his selfish wants. Involuntarily, his head dipped in a curt nod.

Cecilia forced on a smile as she moved past Beaux to Meliah's side. With motherly affection, Cecilia pulled one of Meliah's cold hands unto her lap and began to speak swiftly. Beaux could not bring himself to watch the horror that would mar his beloved's mien. He turned away and let his palm slide off Vincent's mouth. Vincent used the edge of his sleeve to meticulously wipe the corners of his lips.

"That was not too hard now – was it?" Vincent sneered. He looked at his niece, who spoke without missing a beat. Unlike Beaux, Cecilia seemed immune to the painful moans and lamentations from Meliah.

Several minutes passed in relative silence save the hushed murmurs from Cecilia and the long interjections from Vincent, who had found it his mission to fill in the missing parts of the story. However, Vincent keenly avoided his role in the entire affair. _He_had slipped a simple sleeping draught in Meliah's drink the day he forced Beaux to take her blood.

When Cecilia finished, Meliah was no longer speaking or moving. Beaux tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the right so he could catch a fleeting glimpse of Meliah's hypnotized expression. She remained immobile for another five minutes before unexpectedly, her hands began to seek out consolation of their own accord as though her body was being controlled by a hidden puppeteer. Beaux took an instinctive step toward her but remained distant.

Cecilia was equally unnerved by Meliah's strange behavior. She stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking over the wooden box near her feet. The lid opened and the entire room was filled with the sweet, tinkling melody issuing from its depths.

"I'm so sorry," Cecilia murmured hurriedly as she bent down to retrieve the jewels and brooches that had tumbled out. Meliah was crumpled in a heap and unable to comprehend a word.

Beaux was fixated on the small book that was laying only two steps away from him. "Your Diary," Beaux said in wonder.

Meliah's eyes snapped into focus and she bolted to her feet, snatching the diary by its brown spine. "You _read_ this?!" she asked furiously as she exhaled in short and rough breaths.

Beaux squeezed his eyes shut. How could he have been so careless? Why could he not keep his tongue still at these times? He tried to apologize but Meliah coldly rejected.

"GET OUT!" Meliah shouted at the top of her lungs. "I don't want to hear any of it! Just leave me alone!"

And Beaux, Vincent, and Cecilia left the room without argument.

Beaux was held hostage by several episodes of dejavu. This had happened so many times, and yet here he was again, listening to Meliah's ragged cries on the other side of a closed door.


	23. Chapter 23: Agony

Dedicated to: Sanriko, thepinkpanthergirl, kawaii.bby, and chibichocolate02

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and the awesome support!

* * *

Chapter 23: Agony

"Here."

"I'm not thirsty."

"You should be." Cecilia thrust a porcelain teacup into Beaux's hands. He let the warmth of the surface insulate his cold skin. The dark murky substance quivering like gelatin, he could only guess, was blood. Beaux shuddered; he did not want to be reminded of his dietary habits right then. The door remained closed behind him, and without warning, he let a stifled gasp of irritation. There was no sound on the other side.

"How long does she plan on shutting herself in?" Beaux wondered aloud. Cecilia sighed disconcertedly and ran her hands along the hem of her ruffled sleeves. Beaux turned to face her. "What time is it?"

"The sun set a few minutes ago."

Beaux wanted to cry out in agony. He had been waiting for six hours – motionless and silent, waiting for Meliah to surrender. Yes, she had her reasons to be upset – to be enraged and infuriated – by what he had done. He did not challenge that. But had she not a portion of her broken heart to give him? Could she not spare a moment to think of how he had felt? Did she not love him enough to grant him that?

Cecilia tilted her head inconspicuously toward the door. Beaux watched her inertly and then fretfully as her curious expression became alarmed.

"She's gone!" she breathed.

Within a second, Beaux had rammed open the door and devastated the furniture. Meliah was indeed no where to be found.

"Beaux," Cecilia whispered cautiously, "Look!" She was nearly dangling out of the open window as she pored over the landscape.

Beaux walked uneasily toward her and looked to where she pointed her finger. The vantage from his room was incredible, but Beaux had little time to appreciate the view. His eyes were fixated on the infinitesimal white speck darting behind the walls of the graying edifices.

And before he could realize what he was attempting to do, he was already beyond the window frame and in the cold night air. Beaux heard Cecilia as her celerity propelled her in front of him. With a subtle movement that could have been too quick for any human eye to discern, she motioned him to stay behind. Yet it was futile. Beaux's hunter instincts were unbridled, and today, Meliah was his target.

Even with the wind whistling past his ears, Beaux could hear Cecilia's hallmark sigh as clearly as shattering glass. She jumped easily over the rooftops in her layered skirts and heels. He could sense her satisfied smirk with every landing.

Before he could find enough sarcasm to retort, Beaux skidded to a stop behind Cecilia. After emitting a small gasp, she pressed her body flat against the roof and took a clandestine peek over the eaves.

A familiar high giggle pierced the silence from beneath them. "Come here," a coy, female voice commanded.

There was no time to hesitate. Beaux joined Cecilia and peered into a dimly lit room filled with dolls, plush animals, trains, and wooden horses.

"A toy store?" he wondered aloud. Cecilia glared at him, allowing the dark rings of her irises glow in a malevolent red. She pressed a finger to her lips and signaled him to silence.

Beaux continued searching through the room. And there she was: the repulsively awe-striking figure clothed in white. Beaux bit down on his lip to prevent a scream. Meliah was approaching a cowering man in the corner with an inhuman smile.

"Please stop!" the man begged. His deep voice shook with fear, and he raised his head a fraction of an inch, Beaux could see his eyes – clear and emerald, like his own. The man was in his late twenties or early thirties; through the darkness, Beaux could recognize a hint of maturity in his features – the rugged brow and the sharp jaw. As Meliah bent down in front of the man, he shuddered as though he had been struck.

"There there," Meliah crooned as she touched the man's sunken cheeks. "Don't cry."

The man seemed surprised by her last words and his hands instinctively jumped. He felt the wetness over his skin and gaped in terror.

Beaux grinded his teeth together as Meliah drew closer to the huddled form. "Shhh," Meliah whispered in the man's ear.

Cecilia glanced nervously at Beaux and pressed a forefinger on his wrist. "What's going on?" she hissed. "Why is she-?"

Beaux shook his head. They did not have time to discuss. "Cecilia," he began softly, "Take the man-"

"NO!" a sharp whimper interrupted. Beaux nearly fell off the edge of the roof as a heavy thud agitated the walls. Cecilia bent forward and her eyes doubled in size.

When Beaux had managed to reposition himself, he, too, was immobilized for the briefest moment. A wooden prop had fallen of its shelf above the man's head, leaving a gruesome gash under his left eye. As the blood trickled down his face, Meliah's eyes sparkled.

"I can make that better," she murmured, and she smiled again. The man had not prepared himself this time, and sure enough he was enraptured by her beauty. The light shadows above her scarlet eyes danced with the joy that she felt, and he watched her – incapable of doing anything else.

Meliah moved slowly, and Beaux could feel his stomach reacting violently with the madness in her visible bloodlust. She relished the languid trail that the blood was leaving on the man's tan skin. Cecilia let out a small squeak when Meliah suddenly swooped down on the man. Meliah could have been kissing him if it had not been for the uninhibited sound of consumption as she pressed her lips against his blood.

Beaux was horrified as Meliah's efforts double in fervor. When the man struggled away from her, she looked deeply into his eyes and pressed her tainted lips to the base of his jaw repeatedly. Involuntarily, the man's arms wrapped tightly around her, allowing her to feast with ease.

Jealousy inundated Beaux. _How could she?_ He was in the room within a second, tearing Meliah's body from the man.

"Let go!" Meliah screamed ferociously as Beaux pinned her against his chest. She reached for the man's arm, but her spell was broken and he was eagerly scrambling for the door.

Unfortunately, the man did not realize that Cecilia was waiting for him. With one swift, blurry movement, she had broken his neck, and he lay – dead – at her feet. Another ear-splitting wail burst from Meliah's throat.

"NO!" she bellowed at Cecilia. "YOU KILLED HIM! HE WAS MINE!"

Beaux let Meliah go and she rushed to the man's side, checking his pulse in vain. Her eyes were first furious, but as she looked around her, her smile returned.

"I can have more," she whispered.

And with that Meliah swept out of the room and into the dark streets. Cecilia and Beaux chased after her, but by the time they had located her, she was entwined in the arms of another mortal. This man appeared to be older than the last; his mustache certainly added a few years to his face. Yet unlike the man from the toy store, he was much more compliant as Meliah pulled his face to hers. His lips parted in anticipation…

Beaux's ire took a hold of him again. A monster erupted in his chest and he could not bear to see Meliah, seducing…beguiling…

He attacked the man with unnecessary vehemence and pulled a very ruffled Meliah into his arms.

"Stop this!" Beaux begged.

"You stop this!" she retorted.

"Beaux!" Cecilia called from the entrance of the alleyway. "What happened? Why is she like this all of a sudden?"

"I don't know," Beaux admitted.

Cecilia's shut her eyes and her brow scrunched together as she tried to remember. "This _must_ be her other form. Maybe she's activated by nightfall?" She spoke as though Meliah was a device.

"I thought she would be satisfied with my blood from yesterday!" Beaux exclaimed. "Even _we_ don't feed this often!"

"She must have different needs," Cecilia began. She seemed lost in thought as she scrutinized Meliah's confounded face. As the atmosphere intensified, Meliah positioned herself so that Beaux could not look away from her.

"Beaux," Meliah's voice was sweet as honey. "Beaux, let me feed." Her eyes melted to the darkest of chocolate-brown. "Let me find someone? Do you want me to starve?"

Cecilia raised her eyebrows in skepticism. She was shaking her head furiously, but Beaux was already thawing. "I don't want you with…with other _men_," he finally spat.

Meliah laughed her tinkling laugh. "You see them as men?" she asked. "They're food! One could be a carrot, another could be a tomato!"

"I don't care!" Beaux snapped. Cecilia glowered at him and then Meliah.

Meliah studied the inflection of his voice before continuing. "Then, you would let me drink _your_ blood?" She peeked at him through her lashes. "Always?" she added cautiously. "Such a precious compensation…"

"Silence!" Cecilia cried. "How could even think-?"

"Yes," Beaux answered before Cecilia could finish. His cousin's jaw dropped with his betrayal.

"Beaux, be realistic!" Cecilia roared. "You can't support her every day! You saw what's she's capable of! She will suck you dry!"

"Beaux's a man of his word," Meliah interjected lightly. "And I respect that."

Meliah grasped him aggressively by the shoulders and bit his neck. But Cecilia reacted quickly.

"Don't touch him!" she warned, placing the edge of her sharp claws on Meliah's back.

"I'm fine," Beaux assured Cecilia. "Please."

His eyes looked so helpless and his posture was so resigned. Cecilia could not bring herself to work against him. She let her arm drop and swung around to leave.

"We're leaving tomorrow, you hear?" she muttered. Cecilia turned to look at him, but he was already unconscious and Meliah was wiping her lips on her shift.

"Delicious," Meliah breathed. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "So delicious."

Cecilia could not believe what she was seeing. Beaux was left on the ground like a soiled rag and Meliah did not even bat an eyelid.

"You terrible _thing_!" Cecilia screeched. She brought her hand across Meliah's halcyon face, leaving a bright red streak under her eye.

Meliah looked at her bewildered and stupefied; she looked at Beaux as if to seek protection. Cecilia smirked with satisfaction. "I doubt he could hear you now," Cecilia spat.


	24. Chapter 24: Friction

**Author Note:  
**

**A brief pause from hibernation~  
**

**I apologize for the sudden lapse in updates; with school work and plans for the ever-evanescent "future" I had little time to write (T.T) let alone sleep... **

**Hopefully, the next chapter will come shortly! Until then, I thank everyone who has constantly supported me with reviews! You guys are absolutely wonderful!!**

Chapter 24: Friction

"Don't touch me!" Meliah hissed as Cecilia made a blatant attempt to attack her. Cecilia felt the fluttery fabric of Meliah's nightshift rustle against her poised fingers. She clenched her fist angrily and coiled her body.

"You will have other things to worry about when I'm through with you! You filthy-"

Without a second's hesitation, Meliah sidestepped Cecilia's second lunge and struck her ferociously. Cecilia felt a cold slice of air rip bottom of her corset.

"I told you not to _touch_ me," Meliah whispered venomously. Cecilia let out a growl of frustration. Meliah was quick, cold, and calculating. Cecilia could not imagine a more cumbersome combination.

"If you have some silly notion in that vapid head of yours – if you think you can use Beaux like a convenient little canteen – think again!" Cecilia said shrilly. She could feel her inner fluids almost boiling with her ire.

"If Beaux offers," Meliah sang with a coy smile, "I shan't refuse him." With a soft subtle movement, Meliah hopped across Beaux's inanimate form casually.

Cecilia took this opportunity to grab Meliah's thin neck between her eager hands. Meliah cried out in surprise as Cecilia's grip constricted uncomfortably, choking off the oxygen.

"I can't think of too many things you can do in this position," Cecilia gloated, "But why don't we start with an apology?"

Meliah's eyes, for a moment, had lost their malicious gleam. A dim, underlying current of fear swam around the rims of her brilliant irises before a new expression of amusement appeared triumphantly. She tried to laugh, but Cecilia brought her fingers tighter across her neck, reminding her that death resided but a snap ahead.

Cecilia watched satisfactorily as Meliah spluttered through giggles and disjointed sentences.

"Do what you want!" Meliah spat smugly.

"I will-"

"But if you hurt me, you'll only be hurting your precious Beaux," Meliah finished happily. She felt Cecilia's icy hands loosen rapidly. "So hurt me!"

Cecilia knew Meliah was right. She felt her stomach squirm uncomfortably when she saw Beaux, still mangled on the stone. As much as she hated Meliah, she could not bring herself to hate her cousin. He was still so young and naive. It was not his fault entirely…

"Have it your own _damn_ way!" Cecilia retorted but not without giving her opponent a smack across the right cheek.

Meliah chuckled and got unsteadily to her feet. "See! I knew-"

Cecilia couldn't hear about what Meliah really knew because next minute, the poor girl had collapsed – her words a zephyr of whispers.

The warm sunlight was scrambling from behind the grey clouds, and the rays stroked the back of Cecilia's neck with a foreign gentleness. _Morning already?_ Cecilia wondered. She did not like the idea of having to move around in broad daylight, let alone with the bodies of two unconscious individuals. Yet how she got them safely to the mansion was still a vague mystery.

"Wake up!" Cecilia hissed as she poked Beaux's rib cages mercilessly.

His eyes snapped open, but they were red around the rims and permeated with exhaustion. "Sisi!" Beaux exclaimed. "Ow!" – his arm jumped to his knee – "My legs would appreciate some circulation. Thank you."

"Right," Cecilia murmured sheepishly as she stood up. "I already called the carriage. I also took the liberty of packing your clothes. We need to leave immediately!" She shot Meliah's sleeping form a malicious glare. "The faster we can figure out what's wrong with that – that _thing_ – the faster we can go back to living our lives."

Beaux could barely make out Cecilia's words. His body was sore at every angle, and she was talking as though she was trying to squeeze all her sentences through a very small hole. Her lips were nearly immobile as she continued to speak. "Here, put these on. And these, too. It will get colder from here."

"Are we going to the House?" Beaux managed to ask quickly. "Do they know we're coming? When do we arrive? Who are we staying with?"

Cecilia's answers were concise as they were nebulous. "Yes. Maybe. Three days – more or less. Louis." She never looked up from the piles of clothes she was stuffing into a shabby trunk.

Beaux eyed the condition of the trunk with something short of disdain. "I have other ones you know – _wait_ - who's Louis?"

"Save your breath Beaux. We can get those answered in good time. Make yourself useful and wake up Little Miss Sunshine yonder bedside table."

The bitter sarcasm was unmistakable. Beaux could only apply guesswork as to what happened the night before, but he knew Cecilia was in a dangerous mood. He would rather walk into a lion's den barehanded than unleashing her ire. Without a protest, he carefully came to Meliah's side and breathed her name.

Meliah woke up as disoriented and tired as Beaux. Beaux tried to relish the look that first passed her face. The moment she saw his face, she was relieved and satisfied. Yet as though the memories of the nights before were flooding back, Meliah's expression became solemn and inanimate. The shade of smile that tugged at the corners of her lips disappeared and she pulled her hand out of his. She never changed. Even when they sat next to each other on the carriage… Even as they passed by the gorgeous countryside…

The following three days were filled with silence. Cecilia had given up trying to lighten the mood after the first hour. It was as though her cheery nature had evaporated with Meliah's gloomy disposition.

Beaux dreaded nightfall when the somber Meliah would suddenly swap characters with the devil's apprentice and become a nightmarish creature. The carriage was roomy enough for two full grown adults to lie down on either side, but it seemed like the size of a cigarette box when the other Meliah awakened. She insisted on Beaux's blood. And he acquiesced. Cecilia cried as he fainted.

Despite his better intentions, Beaux quickly found himself moving away from Meliah even when it was during the daytime. Beaux was literally drained, and even his own body was begging him to stop. He pulled his arms around his torso and pressed his body against the wooden walls of the carriage with unnecessary force. Meliah watched him sadly from beneath her lashes and followed suit.

He could not understand her. She coiled against the opposite side of the carriage, unwilling to be near him. Yet she was always stealing glances in his direction – quickly turning toward the curtained window when her gaze was returned.

Nevertheless, Beaux was never happier to see such an inhospitable palace. The Gothic architecture with the high, intimidating vaulting as well as the intricate buttresses could not dampen his spirits. He could not help hoping that the prolonged wait was finally over – Meliah could be cured.

Yet upon stepping into the Assembly Hall, Beaux knew he had been gravely mistaken.


	25. Chapter 25: Strangers

Chapter 25: Strangers

"What are standing like that for?" Cecilia hissed as she swept the hem of her skirts into one hand. She looked disapprovingly at the snow and tapped the heel of her leather boots against the side of the carriage.

"Nothing," Beaux murmured in reply. He hurried over to help Meliah, who appeared frightened and disoriented. Grasping her hand firmly in his, he led Meliah toward Cecilia. Beaux had the unnerving feeling that Meliah was constantly looking for ways to escape. She glanced over her shoulder intermittently and took frantic breaths as her wary eyes shifted from right to left.

Cecilia led the way robustly. She had obviously been here several times before. Her steps led her to the Great Hall, which was some sort of a cathedral that had been converted into a meeting hall.

Beaux could only smile at the blatant irony. But his amusement was short-lived. He heard Meliah's steps come to a brief scuffle with the pavement. Beaux extended an arm to support her waist. If she had appeared scared before, her face now spelled devastation.

There was tall sentinel at the entrance to the Hall. He was pale as the snow that came to his ankles. Cecilia approached him without hesitation. "We're here to meet the Council. You may tell them I'm Cecilia Mansart." Her voice was so sure and her tone was so unwavering that the guard did not question her further.

Beaux watched Meliah's eyes follow the sentinel into the great building as though afraid he would return. She remained as still as stone. When the man returned, Meliah's hands clutched unto the sleeve of Beaux's coat.

"Beaux, Beaux," she whispered urgently.

"Come in," the guard invited. Cecilia strode ahead and threw Beaux a look of caution as though daring him to refuse her.

"You heard him," Cecilia emphasized. "_Let us._"

Beaux gently squeezed Meliah's hand and gave her a smile as encouragement. Without seeming overly extortive, Beaux pushed Meliah through the double doors. He instantly regretted doing so. For as Beaux's eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness, he could see more than two dozen vampire elders sitting on high throne-like chairs that lined the length of the cathedral. Their expressions were as calm and poised as they were lethal.

Meliah gave a scream of panic. She buried her face into Beaux, pushing him violently towards the exit, and sobbed hysterically, "Please! No! Beaux, Beaux please don't do this to me! I don't want to – I don't want to! Please? Oh, Beaux I'm so, so sorry. I'll do anything!"

Beaux's mind was throbbing. _What are you talking about?_

He made an instinctive move toward the open doors, but the guard was already pulling the doors shut. A loud bang echoed through the Hall and a hushed silence accompanied Meliah's cries.

"What do you not want to do?" Beaux inquired in a low voice.

Meliah looked at him incredulously as though the answer was obvious. "I don't want to die of course!"

Beaux's first reaction was to laugh. It was such a ridiculous response, he thought, and so sincere. However, upon looking up at the cold faces in the Great Hall, Beaux's smile disappeared instantly. The council members were watching Meliah with utter scorn and contempt.

"I know I've been stupid. How could you blame me? I was tired, Beaux! And heartbroken, very heartbroken!" Meliah continued, "But you can't do this-"

"What are you talking about?" Beaux interrupted. "Me?"

"Don't deny it Beaux! You've brought me here!" She rose to a crescendo. "You're going to leave me here! After what you've done to me!" Meliah wiped her tears messily on the sleeve of her blue dress. Beaux took a step forward.

"Meliah-"

"Silence!" Cecilia commanded. "Do you want to get us all killed?" The sedentary vampires shifted agitatedly in their seats.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you Meliah," Beaux promised; he furrowed his brow and spoke gravely. "If you think – even for a moment – I would deliberately harm you, you don't know me."

"I never knew a lot about you," Meliah retorted somewhat viciously.

"Save the lovers' quarrel!" Cecilia snapped at the two. "It seems that you have forgotten-"

"That you are all in the Great Hall?" a deep, powerful voice echoed from the far end of the cathedral.

Cecilia rolled her eyes carelessly, and walked briskly passed the transept to where the altar should have been. A grand throne, more elaborate and intricate than the ones near the entrance stood. A young male was descending, rather elegantly, the stairs to the base of his throne. Cecilia watched him without interest but he only responded with a coy smile.

"Cecilia," the vampire murmured as he took her hand and kissed it reverently. "You look ravishing as always."

She threw back her chestnut tresses haughtily. "Lord Eas, you flatter me," she replied. She did not look flattered...at all.

Meliah and Beaux had fallen silent. They watched the man with something caught between suspicion and curiosity. Indeed, Lord Eas was something out of a novel. He could have been the villain or the tortured hero with his sharp features and dark, scarlet eyes. His hair was nighttime and his skin, like the others, was winter.

Beaux felt Meliah shaking. He knew she feared these people, but Lord Eas had not even acknowledged their presence.

"What brings you here today?" Lord Eas asked innocently.

"I believe you know _exactly_ what would propel me to enter this place," she replied venomously. "Or do you purposely forget what I ask of you?"

"Ah yes," he sighed. He adjusted his ermine trimmed cloak and cleared his throat. "Members of the Assembly! I call this meeting to order! Today, we have a trial!"

A small wave of soft mutters filled the hall as the vampires whispered importantly to one another. Lord Eas took Cecilia's hand and pulled her close. "Please meet me later," he beseeched. She glared at him but nodded reluctantly and quickly pulled away.

"What's this trial about?" Beaux demanded as he approached Lord Eas menacingly. "I don't believe we've agreed to anything just yet!"

"So you're the wretch you caused this mess? Hmm?" Lord Eas wondered aloud. "Have you any idea what kind of trouble you are in young one?"

"No, actually I don't!" Beaux challenged.

"You insolent-!"

"Don't speak to him that way!" Cecilia snapped. Her eyes glowed furiously. "Don't forget our promise Yvan!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Lord Eas replied. He heaved another hefty sigh, but glanced at Cecilia hopefully. "Does that mean you have-?"

"I haven't said anything just yet!"

"But that means!"

A booming voice behind them interrupted Lord Eas and Cecilia: "Can we commence the trial?"

Lord Eas looked embarrassed, but no color rose to his face. Instead, he wrung his hands impatiently. "Well, yes, of course," he answered sheepishly. "You!" – he pointed at a young man who seemed to have missed his opportunity to leave the hall – "Take this" – he glanced at Meliah uneasily – "_thing_ to the middle of the room!"

The youth came towards the party hesitantly. He was tall, slender and had the look of someone who had not been cared for very well, but thrived anyway. "I have a name Lord Eas," he murmured. Cecilia stiffened considerably and looked as though she had been rooted to the spot. But this reaction went unnoticed by the others.

"Was it something like Frederick?" Lord Eas guessed casually.

"Louis, actually," the youth replied. He cast his eyes down and let his muddy-brown hair cover his face. Yet before bowing his head completely, his eyes made contact with Meliah's dark ones. And she gasped quietly. Beaux, who had been absorbed in Lord Eas and Cecilia's strange conversation, jumped slightly upon hearing Meliah's response to the boy. Beaux noticed Louis for the first time and also bit back an exclamation.

"Anyway, you," Lord Eas continued. "Take her over there."

"Yes sir." Louis walked over toward Meliah and glanced at her apologetically. "Please," he begged, "follow me." Meliah, in her curiosity, nearly forgot about the vampire elders. She followed Louis away from Beaux, Cecilia, and Lord Eas.

"Wait, wait!" Beaux shouted. "Stop! What in heaven's nam-"

"Beaux! Just let her go!"


	26. Chapter 26: Stoke of Luck

Chapter 26: Stroke of Luck

Cecilia's face was livid, but she was not looking at Beaux. Instead, her eyes were curiously pinned to Lord Eas's smiling face. Her scarlet pupils dilated threateningly, but Lord Eas merely fluttered his dark lashes and twirled an ebony lock of hair between his two fingers in a flirtatious manner. She breathed laboriously before repeating, "Just let her go."

Beaux wanted to protest and scream in frustration. Every fiber of his being was reluctant to follow orders – to sit blindly and let the Council have its way. Yet Cecilia's eyes were streaked with pain and unspeakable fury. Beaux had never seen Cecilia this way before. She reminded him of a desperate animal behind the metal bars of its wretched cage. Perhaps unlike such a beast, her reason was in tact…

"Beaux," Meliah began - her voice high with anxiety, "I will be all right-"

"Well then," Lord Eas interrupted cheerfully, "Let us begin!"

Meliah tottered uneasily after Louis, who kept glancing at the door. Beaux suppressed a growl when Louis's hand slid into Meliah's trembling one. She looked at him in surprise and then alarm as he exerted a signal of pressure into her palm. She followed his unwavering gaze towards the great, impenetrable doors.

"Case number 83450!" a cold female voice at the other end of the Hall called. "On the stand is Meliah Lavoirsier. Age: 18-"

Meliah looked up as her name was announced and stood nervously on the balls of her feet. Beaux watched her clutched her gloved hands together and tug insistently at the tips of each finger. As she approached the foreboding podium in the middle of the cathedral, Louis brushed against her elbow and gave her another peculiar stare. This slipped unnoticed by the vampires, who were already murmuring amongst themselves in the most chaotic manner as though they did not know already what was to come.

For at that very moment, the female announcer had said, "Race: Human."

"A human!" the Assembly hissed. "We have never tried a _human_ in this court! At least not while 'twas living-!"

"Now, now!" Lord Eas spoke over the bustle. He agitatedly lifted his hands over his head to hush the others. "This is no ordinary human!"

The Assembly fell silent. Dramatically, Lord Eas began again, "She has been _bitten_."

The silence shattered like glass, and once against dozens of anxious voices overlapped one another in a hodgepodge of gasps and sharp retorts.

"Impossible!" a particularly elegant vampire with long white hair stood up and approached the podium in utter disbelief. "How is she still alive?"

She came in front of a poor, shaken Meliah and grasped the girl's face between her cold, white fingers. Meliah gasped and Beaux's fist twitched menacingly.

"Lady Magdalene," Lord Eas, "Please refrain from handling the _evidence_."

Despite Cecilia's ardent attempts to keep him from moving toward the stand, Beaux jumped to his feet. "You worthless-"

Every member of the Assembly crept forward in their seats and watched the spectacle unraveling below with interest and little trepidation. No one, however, seemed to want to get involved. The she-vampire let go of Meliah in a disinterested manner and resumed her seat, leaving Lord Eas alone in the center of the cathedral.

But before Beaux could lunge at Lord Eas, the door burst open dramatically. The snow from outside drifted effortlessly into the Hall like a stream of vaporized glass. The cold draft bit at Meliah's exposed neck, and she clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering.

"My Lords and Ladies!" the sentinel cried, "Our Southern enemies have sent an envoy!"

"What?" Lord Eas shouted. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Lord Eas, it appears as though the battle has been lost!"

Lord Eas rubbed his temple in agitation. "After all the money we had invested! Helping out those Covens! Our bad judgment it seems…"

"There is no time Lord Eas!" the sentinel continued.

"Right," Lord Eas sighed while massaging his right palm as if to relieve the tension. "You boy!" – stabbing a pointed finger at Louis – "Take her and escort her – er – _caretakers_ to the guest quarters! This instant!"

"Yes sir," Louis mumbled. He grabbed Meliah's wrist and pulled her out of the Great Hall without a second's hesitation. There was something incredibly strategic about Louis and Meliah gave no indication of reluctance. Beaux and Cecilia followed hastily behind until all the four were sprinting through the snow.

"A stroke of luck," Beaux heard Louis mutter between his pale lips. "It seems God is on your side m'lady."

"This is good?" Meliah inquired skeptically. Nevertheless, the relief on her face was evident and Beaux was left pondering what had transpired back in the Great Hall.

Yet before a minute had passed, Meliah, breathless and obviously low of stamina, tripped and fell into the cold, white mass. She gasped from a sudden, sharp, searing pain. Beaux bounded to Meliah's side but was instantly pushed back by Louis's arm.

The smell of fresh blood stopped Beaux in his tracks. From behind Louis's thick brown locks, Beaux caught the sight of Meliah's torn ankle. An innocent-looking stub of what appeared to be branch sat beside her – quiet and desolate.

Beaux felt Cecilia's nails cutting into his arm. Her blank but colorless face indicated her alarm.

"I'll carry her," Louis said softly but decidedly.

"Don't you lay a finger on her!" Beaux snapped. Meliah let out a small whimper, wrapping her wound with her handkerchief, and Beaux made another valiant attempt to approach her.

Cecilia was clutching unto Beaux's arm with so much force he could have sworn he was bruising. She shook her head wordlessly and pulled him to a safer distance.

Cecilia exhaled loudly once they were about 20 feet away and gently mollified Beaux, who was glowering unnecessarily at Louis. He heard Meliah's breath hitch when she was lifted easily into Louis's arms. Beaux stomped about in an outrage of jealousy. Cecilia continued to tell him that Louis was trustworthy, but she might as well have been talking to an irritable goat. Beaux only had ears for Meliah's conversation with Louis.

"Thank you," Meliah murmured shyly. She pushed her dark hair out of her glowing eyes.

"You are very welcome," Louis replied. He smiled at her demurely but sincerely, and Meliah clasped her hands together in delighted surprise.

"You _are_ human!" she exclaimed excitedly. "You _must_ be! I knew it! I _knew_ you were different."

Louis only responded with another silent smile, but Meliah seemed satisfied. "Oh," she began happily, "It is so wonderful meeting another human! Unfortunately, I'm not so sure_ I_ am a human anymore."

She furrowed her brow together and sighed. Beaux watched her expression obsequiously. Surely, he must comfort her? Cecilia was adamant. She insisted that they remain at a distance while going to the guests' quarters.

"Don't worry yourself just yet Miss," Louis advised with an encouraging glance. "We have other things. More important things…to worry about…"

When the four of them were behind walls and under a ceiling, Louis deemed it safe enough to continue speaking, explaining, and answering questions.

He dashed from one end the room the other, closing doors and covering the windows.

"Is there something we missed, Louis?" Cecilia asked quietly as she seated herself on a crimson sofa.

"I am sure that the Assembly – especially your" – Cecilia glared – "Lord Eas did not plan on giving Miss Lavoirsier here a fair trial. It has been predetermined. They decided that no human that has been Transformed may remain alive," Louis replied. His eyes did not leave Meliah's face. Meliah gasped and tears welled in her eyes.

"Is that why you were signaling her?" Beaux asked irritably. He pulled Meliah closely to his side and watched Louis's gaze follow his movements.

Louis looked at him gravely and Beaux noticed his startlingly green eyes once more, "Yes. I hoped we could escape before the trial began – though I doubted its success highly."

"I can't believe this," Cecilia moaned softly as she placed her face between her hands, "I can't believe Yvan would betray me - not like this! Not after he promised me he wouldn't! After _I_-"

"What did _you _promise _him_?" Beaux interrupted. He looked at Cecilia with concern.

Shocked, Cecilia bit down on her tongue. "Nothing!" she snapped. And Beaux was very sorry he had cut her short.

"Thank you, Louis," Meliah said. She spoke with such sincerity and such trust that Louis could not help but smile in return. "You saved me!"

"Well technically," Beaux muttered. He was on the verge of pointing out that Louis had done nothing that chance would not have. Meliah's narrowed eyes darted toward him – warning him to hold his tongue. Beaux shut his mouth reluctantly and merely contented himself with scowling heavily.

"I must thank you as well," Cecilia said gently. "You have put yourself through a lot of trouble for all of us." Louis and Cecilia exchanged knowing glances that the other two could not discern.

"Speaking of which," Beaux added, "Why are you doing this? Why are you risking your own hide - for us? You could not have forgotten who, no, _what _we are-"

"Beaux," Meliah hissed. She looked at Louis with what seemed to be a tacit apology. Louis looked at Beaux – abashed. He quickly turned from Beaux to hide the thin red color rising in his face.

"We must figure out a way to remove Miss Lavoirsier from the premises before they realize that any of you know their true plans!" Louis changed the subject with such alacrity that Beaux and Meliah were – for a moment – befuddled. "Now Miss Lavoirsier, let me tend to your wound."

"Oh, thank you," Meliah said. She seemed to have forgotten about her ankle whose bloody, impromptu bandage was sliding off.

"Meanwhile," Louis continued, "Miss Cecilia, you must return to the Assembly and feign ignorance. I'm sure Lord Eas will seek you shortly!"

Cecilia winced at the name but nodded curtly. Louis grasped Meliah gently by the hand and escorted her into the adjacent room. When the door clasped shut behind Louis, Beaux jumped to his feet and started after him.

"Don't be silly!" Cecilia scolded, grabbing Beaux's arm severely. "He's but a child!"

"Children don't have eyes now?" Beaux retorted viciously. His emerald eyes were aflame. "One would have to be daft not to have noticed already!"

Cecilia inhaled deeply and suppressed a weary chuckle. "Beaux, not everyone sees her the way you do! I've said this before, but she's really a plain kind of girl." She glanced at Beaux nonchalantly through her thick lashes. "Now, don't be cross I was being frank!" Yet despite her claim, she bit her lip sheepishly.

"Cecilia!" Beaux snapped. He ran his fingers through his flaxen hair restlessly.

Cecilia burst into hearty laughter and stood up to give him a smart pinch on the cheek. "So vain! So jealous! But so adorable! My heart goes to the lady who will have to live with you!"

"Ow! Cecilia!" Beaux massaged his cheek but returned her genuine smile. After all, how long had it been since any of them had taken the time to acknowledge some good-natured humor?

"I will be heading back to the Great Hall to stall," Cecilia confirmed. "You stay here! And please, be kind. Louis is a good child."

"How do you know this Louis character?" Beaux asked suspiciously. Although his hands subconsciously continued their routine of smoothing and tidying his apparel, his eyes were piercing. "He is not a vampire. That is definite. But something about his presence is unsettling. I do not know how to describe this feeling."

Cecilia looked into Beaux's eyes for what seemed like hours. She broke into a prolonged sigh and left without another word.

When Cecilia had left, Beaux sprinted to the other room and crouched outside the closed door, hoping to catch snippets of Louis and Meliah's voices. Fortunately, he did not have to strain a nerve.

"Louis," Meliah began softly. "How old are you? You cannot be any older than I am. That is, judging from your appearance."

Beaux heard Meliah's voice trail at the end shyly. He could see almost the blush that would be coloring her cheeks that moment. _How innocent and timid she must seem!_ Beaux felt his own blood boiling beneath his ivory skin. His reaction was that of anger.

"I will be turning sixteen," Louis replied.

"I see. And Louis?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you here?"

"I am not allowed to leave."

"Why not?"

There was a pause. Beaux heard Meliah shuffle the hem of dress uneasily. He imagined her dark eyes searching Louis' green ones for an answer. She did not withdraw her question.

"I am under custody of the Coven," Louis' low voice whispered. Beaux could see Louis look at Meliah and catch her next question. "I – I also have a – a condition. Though not like yours, worry not – you see-"

Louis choked and his sentence was cut short. Beaux heard Louis slump in his seat – the soft rustle of his clothes echoed in the silence that followed.

"There, there," Meliah cooed after a moment. She seemed to be edging her chair closer. Beaux heard the legs scrape against the floor. "If it is something you can not speak of, do not take it upon yourself to divulge anything to me. I understand."

"No," Louis said. If Beaux was not mistaken, his voice sounded strained. "I will not betray your trust, which you so willingly gave. I must warn you Miss Lavoirsier, you must not be so easily deceived by appearances-"

"I am not! I know you can be trusted-" Meliah interrupted indignantly. From the tone of her voice, Beaux could imagine her tossing back her hair in accompaniment.

"And how would you know?"

"Your eyes do not lie!"

Louis let out a soft chuckle. "They already have."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I am not a human Miss Lavoirsier. Not completely."


	27. Chapter 27: Halfmortals

Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy this latest update!

I have taken to commissioning pieces for my OCs and Beaux has been included. Please take the time to view this lovely piece by BlueAiden and let me know what you think. Just delete the portions that say [remove] to activate the link!

http://[remove]i4[remove]07.[remove]phot[remove]obucket.[remove]com/albums[remove]/pp158/[remove]geniebaro/beaux[remove]byBlueAiden[remove].jpg

Chapter 27: Half-Mortals

"What on earth do you mean?!" Meliah gasped.

"Do you honestly not know?" Louis asked. Beaux could hear the suppressed plea in his voice. A long screech of wood on wood echoed through the small room. Beaux could only assume that Meliah was once again drawing close to Louis.

Suddenly, the only sound that seemed to be reverberating was the thin breathing of two half-mortals. Meliah appeared to be trembling; Beaux flinched.

"I know who you are," Meliah whispered raggedly.

The silence was instantly shattered. Louis jumped to his feet, and his footsteps seem to move further away. Beaux leaned closer only to realize that Louis was merely walking around the periphery of the room in a disoriented manner.

Beaux heard the clatter of china as Louis handled what sounded like a frail teapot and a cup. The porcelain seemed dangerously close to bursting in Louis' stern and anxious grip.

"Would you like some help?" Meliah offered timidly. She bit back a small cry when she got to her feet. The pressure on her ankle flushed blood to the wound, and Beaux found himself pinching his nose in horror.

"No, thank you," Louis replied quickly. He turned around and Meliah flopped reluctantly back into her chair. "You seem to be the type of girl to break things."

"That's not so!" Meliah defended herself valiantly. "I am very careful!"

Louis let out a soft chuckle. "Miss Lavoisier, glass is not the only thing that can be broken."

Beaux imagined Meliah's eyes narrowing precariously. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Her voice was hard.

"Miss Lavoisier, I will ask a favor of you. You may think of this small request as a compensation for my failed attempt to save you."

Louis seemed to watch Meliah calmly, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued unabashedly.

"I know that Mr. von Chatillon has committed a great crime against you. Yet I also understand that he is very much in love with you."

Meliah made a small noise that indicated her incredulity. "I would not be sure of that! He is no longer in love with me!"

Beaux nearly collapsed on the floor in surprise. He had never suspected that Meliah would be so blatantly unsatisfied with his sacrifice.

"No, I am very sure," Louis insisted. "And your rejection will only cut him further-"

Beaux could feel the tears now running down her pink cheeks in indignation. "Beaux has been avoiding me all the while we were coming to this awful place! He knows that there is no cure for me! He has lost interest or desire or affection! Or something! Whatever he lacks for me in his heart has now manifested into disgust!"

Louis sighed and generously placed his hands on top of hers in an attempt to mollify her. "Do you truly believe that?"

"I know so!" Meliah answered. The chair squeaked uncomfortably beneath her as she shook angrily.

Louis laughed gently. "You know you don't believe that nonsense. I am sure there are other reasons behind his actions. Please, I beg of you. Embrace his love and put his poor heart to rest. You are the one person who can grant me this ease of mind."

"You _truly_ care," Meliah murmured. She said it more to herself than she did for Louis. "But why-?"

"If you love him, you _must_ spare him the pain. And you do love him do you not?"

Meliah was very quiet and Beaux felt his lungs constrict and his body seize in dread. Of course she did! She had endured so much on his behalf. He himself had risked his life for her. She _must_ love him.

"I do." Meliah answered and her voice became unsteady with emotion. She appeared to be crying once more. "I love him very much. I only wish that – that – I don't really know anymore. I don't know what I want."

"Shhh, try not to think too much. Love is irrational (that is, according to what I have heard). You must only protect that which your heart desires," Louis said simply. "You, Miss Lavoisier, are my one chance at acceptance in this fam-"

"But does he know?" Meliah asked uncertainly.

"No."

"Will you ever tell him?"

"Yes, perhaps, but not now. Not yet."

Beaux heard Louis walking towards the other end of the room again. The window creaked as Louis drew back the heavy velvet curtains.

"It's nighttime," he murmured in wonder.

A sudden creak and a thud indicated that Meliah's chair had been knocked over. She limped to the window and emitted a gasp of terror.

"Louis! You must leave me!"

"What do you-? Does this having anything to do with the condition the Assembly spoke of?"

"Yes! I – I can not control it!" Meliah grasped Louis by the arms and pushed him desperately towards the door where Beaux was standing behind. "You must leave me!"

Beaux rushed back into the other room and tried to act as naturally as possible. Louis was out in the hallway, banging heavily against the door.

"Miss Lavoisier! This is ridiculous!" Louis cried as though her sudden outburst was a result of childish fancies.

"You don't know what you speak of," Beaux hissed. He brushed Louis aside and stood between him and the door with a confident yet dreading stance.

"I do!" Louis retorted. "I've seen this before!"

Beaux was so surprised that his stern expression was quickly replaced by a queer consternation. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this can be fixed!" Louis exclaimed.

Beaux and Louis watched one another without speaking for nearly two minutes. And within the quiet – palpable and deep –gentle footsteps began to patter. The door knob rattled precariously and Beaux grabbed the door shut.

"Please," a startling, high voice begged, "Louis. Beaux. Let me out please."


	28. Chapter 28: The Race

Chapter 28: The Race

Beaux felt his knees buckle beneath him precariously, as though every bone in his body was slowly disintegrating. He groped the door knob like a blind man searching for his cane.

"Louis!" Meliah called from other side in her sweet, sickly voice. Beaux felt the pressure of Meliah's small hands running across the door white surface and then tapping it with a sudden force. "Why is the door shut? Why won't you let me out?"

Louis pursed his lips together and stiffened until Beaux could not distinguish him from the wall behind him. The two gauged each other through narrowed eyes.

"What do mean you 'know'?" Beaux finally whispered. He spoke so softly, Louis knew that had his lips not opened, he would have missed the query all together. Beaux lowered himself until he was sitting on the floor with his back pushed against the door. "Tell me quickly!"

"My father was once bitten by a vampire."

Beaux bit back a sharp gasp and felt his throat constrict violently. "A vampire?" he breathed. "And he survived?"

Louis looked at him with his bright green eyes, glazed over with a misty reminiscence. Beaux noticed his lips twitch into a vague, half-smile.

"No."

Beaux sighed in frustration and slumped heavily against the door. And recognizing movement, Meliah began her plea once more. "Beaux! Is that you? Oh Beaux let me out! I've – I've hurt myself." She cried piteously and scratched the door like a kitten.

"Let her out," Louis said calmly.

Beaux looked up at Louis in amazement. And to Louis's great dismay, in the brief moment their eyes met, Beaux's eyes reflected fear and panic.

Beaux twisted his body around uncomfortably. His eyelids shut tightly together, his lips pinched between his teeth. He was being burned alive.

"Or are you afraid?" Louis asked. Beaux eyes snapped open.

"How dare you-?"

"Then why won't you open the door?"

Beaux's eyes were quickly shadowed by his hair as he bent his head in reluctant defeat. He shifted uneasily, his coat brushing the floor like the hushed call of a phantom voice. His hands seemed to slide from the door knob as the sweat collected in the cavity of his palm.

"I – I can't. I don't want to see her like this anymore. My body – no - I can no longer take it." He was ashamed of what he had spoken. It was not as though his willingness to sacrifice his life was not strong enough, yet something from deep within Beaux was protesting wildly in fear. He wondered if the very Meliah, who thirsted for his blood, was the one he loved. Could it be he was in love with one half yet not the other?

"She is still Miss Lavoisier," Louis answered his thoughts.

"I know!" Beaux snapped angrily. He pulled himself unto his knees and shuffled awkwardly in place. "But what am I to do? She is – is a mon– unbelievable."

Louis grabbed Beaux's wrist and pulled him from the floor and upright. He then proceeded to open the door despite Beaux's silent protests.

When the door swung open, the two saw Meliah sitting on the floor. Her eyes were miraculously free of tears and her hands were folded neatly in her lap like a cloth napkin.

"Oh Louis!" Meliah breathed sensuously. She jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around Louis's neck. She pressed her doll face right to Louis's ear. The dearest "thank you" issued from her fruit-like lips. Her dark crimson irises caught Beaux, standing rigidly behind Louis. She lowered her lashes and flashed him a daring smile. Beaux felt his veins freezing over in anger.

Meliah pressed two fingers against Louis's pale neck and brought her lips close. But Louis withdrew rapidly. He clasped his neck with one hand and gently grasped Meliah's hand with the other.

"No," Louis enunciated firmly, "You can not drink from me."

"Cruel, cruel Louis! How can you deny me?" Meliah pouted. Beaux's heart stopped when she let an unwilling glass tear fall like a raindrop from her eye. She brushed a thick lock of hair from Louis's forehead and moved toward him once more.

"No," Louis repeated. "Your antics won't work on me." His body language was clear. The passionate desire that Meliah expected to see was no where in his eyes or his motionless limbs. His lips were dry with resolve.

The air seemed to drop several degrees as the painted smile from Meliah's face faded away. "You are not the only one with blood pumping through your body!" she retorted. "I shan't take you by force, you despicable dog!"

Beaux knew Meliah's pride was too much to assault for a meal. She valued her ability to control her victims. And until this point, Beaux had given himself to her willingly.

"Beaux," Meliah whimpered in defeat, "Come."

She abandoned Louis and placed her hands in Beaux's. Beaux did not want to admit it he was afraid. He feared her bright eyes and her dazzling smile and the way her body moved – dangerously and seductively – like mercury.

Inadvertently, Beaux sought Louis's guidance. And they exchanged glances. Meliah tugged Beaux's armed forcefully and then looked into his face with a fierce curiosity. Beaux planted his feet on the ground and pulled his arm free. Louis came to Meliah.

"You are under the influence of a terrible condition-"

"You speak of nonsense!" Meliah snapped irritably. "Beaux! We move!"

Beaux was desperate. "Meliah, please, we can fix this. We can return things the way they were before this! So, just please, let's listen to Louis."

"Don't be stupid Beaux!" Meliah cried. "You, _sir_, are a coward! A stupid, spineless wretch! You promised me! If you don't want me to take the blood of others, you give me yours!"

"Meliah! Don't you see? Louis knows a cure!" Beaux exclaimed.

"I've never expressed any desire to be cured! I'm not sick!" she screamed. She shook her head, until her hair was disheveled and her clothes unseemly.

"Aren't you tired of these transformations?" Beaux asked exasperatedly. "Every night, Meliah, _every night_."

Meliah stopped and whirled around. Her fury was palpable. "You tire of me?"

"No! That is not what I said-"

"I see," Meliah murmured. She pushed herself against Beaux before kissing him tenderly at the base of his throat. Beaux gasped in surprise and blushed crimson; he sensed Louis's anxiety intensify. "You tire of this?"

Beaux could not remember his argument; he blinked furiously to remain in focus, but the cold sensation of her lips was making him very, very…

He did not know when Meliah's teeth had pierced through his skin. He felt himself spluttering and fighting for air, yet his arms were pulling her closer. Beaux only retrieved some consciousness when he heard Louis calling. He could not make out the words but Louis was shouting. Beaux felt his energy being drained out of his body into the scarlet creature beside him, relishing the taste of his life on her tongue.

"You're killing him!" Louis bellowed. "He will die if you continue to do this! Meliah STOP!"

Then, something strange happened. Meliah seemed to shudder uncontrollably, and her eyes were no longer red. She swayed uneasily on her feet and Louis caught her from falling completely. As she gasped for air, her skin seem to grow duller as through the faint, eerie white light inside of her had been snuffed out.

Beaux was immobilized. He could not even open his eyes. But when he finally awoke, he could hear.

"He hates me," Meliah said somberly. She spoke without a sob but the sorrow in her voice was heart-wrenching. "He must hate me after what I've done."

Beaux's throat burned with objection, but his neck was throbbing and his voice was no where to be found. He sensed her hand hovering above his face, yet she could not bear to touch him.

"Please," Louis begged. "What's important is that you have some control. You have not been consumed. So we must do our best to protect what is left of your soul."

"My soul, too? Louis, what has happened to me? How can this be undone?" she whispered urgently.

"A vampire – aside from your creator – must bite you without killing you."

"No!" Meliah gasped. She put her hands protectively around her neck.

"Unfortunately-" Louis continued softly.

Beaux could not believe what he was hearing. He could barely control himself! How could he find a vampire who would have enough compassion to stop drinking?

"-that vampire must also be one with great prerequisites. Of lineage. Of status."

"Why?" Meliah inquired. Beaux sensed her brush against the edge of the bed. His own energy was returning somewhat reluctantly into his leaden limbs.

Louis continued, "Only those vampires with a strong breeding have inherent powers. I believe the von Chatillon is one of those old families, which is why Beaux may have been able to create the other _you_ to begin with."

"What should we do?" Meliah asked desperately. She wrung her hands together and then resorted to pacing the room in an agitated manner. Beaux heard her feet dragging across the wooden panels with unnecessary force.

"I don't know Miss Lavoisier. I wanted to get you away from here because I knew the Assembly was not going to play fairly. However, I may have underestimated the urgency of your situation. Ultimately, it is your choice alone. Whether you choose to look for an alternative, or put your life at the feet of Lord Eas."

"Lord _who_?" gasped Meliah. She pulled her hair behind her ears and the smoothed the ends frantically. "You don't mean that dark haired man, the one with the sharp face?"

Louis's eyes grew wide with surprise and guilt. His trembling hand covered his lips as if to obscure his mistake. "I've spoken too much," he managed to choke. Beaux heard Meliah's angry sigh. She moved toward the Louis and forced him to look at her pale face.

"This is my life you're gambling with! I need to know the truth! And quite frankly, I've been deprived of that since the moment I stepped unto this Godforsaken place!"

"No, no I can't. I promised Miss Cecilia-" Louis stopped short again.

"Cecilia? What does she have to do with this?" Meliah demanded. She did not bother to disguise her disapproval. Beaux had a clear idea as to why Meliah was so cold toward the name. Ever since their last confrontation, she had been on rather negative terms with his cousin. Although, admittedly, Beaux knew the animosity was mutual.

"Please don't make me say anymore," Louis begged. His voice was quite moving, but as Beaux mentally noted, his teary eyes were probably as convincing. He sensed Meliah's anger diminishing until it was but a small flicker of the candlelight. "Ask her yourself, but this is not my secret to divulge. You understand."

Beaux, however, could not understand. And he could no longer feign unconsciousness either for that matter.

"Fine!" he snapped as he bolted out of the bed and grabbed Meliah roughly by the wrist. He saw Louis's eyes expand until the green of his irises were illuminated into rings of silver and gold. "We'll ask her ourselves! And then maybe we can get some Goddamn answers around here!"

He half expected Louis to stop him, but Louis remained still and oddly reserved. Beaux, however, did not wait for approval.

"Beaux!" Meliah gasped. "Wait! Where are we going?"

In his fury and haste, he was nearly deaf to Meliah's squeaks of pain. The two were halfway between the guest quarters and the Great Hall when the opaque silhouettes of a couple in the midst of the snow stopped Beaux in his tracks. The mysterious couple was only several yards away, but the flurry of white seemed to mute their voices. Beaux quickly pulled Meliah aside until they were completely hidden by the thick brush. They still had a clear view of the couple.

Meliah, who was still unaware of the presence of others, was indignantly brushing off snowflakes from her hair and clothes. She growled at the sight of mud caked on the back of her shoes, and continued her offhanded cleaning. Beaux took a few moments to revel in her beauty and admire the white flutters, glowing like little stars against her ebony tresses. When she caught him staring at her unabashedly, she began to blush and her warm breath blew soft clouds of thick mist to linger in the air.

Beaux's poor heart was buzzing like the wings of a hummingbird. He bent over to kiss her snow-laden lashes, but she drew back a tad to indicate her hesitancy. She looked at him longingly while he replied with a quizzical expression.

"Beaux, I have a question," Meliah began shyly. Her eyes were watering with emotion.

"Yes?" Beaux asked. He leaned closer until he could almost count the small lashes under her eyes.

Yet suddenly the murmurs of the nearby couple erupted into shouts. The thin silence was shattered and Beaux pressed a finger to his lips to signal Meliah to stay quiet.

"You are a liar!" the woman screamed.

"Isn't she Miss Mansart?" Meliah whispered. And Beaux saw, she was right.


	29. Chapter 29: What Bargain?

**I just noticed this is an incredibly short chapter! **

**Thanks again to all those who have read and reviewed! **

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Chapter 29: What Bargain?

Beaux's eyes were riveted on the two forms, stark against the brilliant whiteness of the snow. The figures were motionless as the trees behind them, yet Beaux could sense the mounting intensity between the two as their soft invisible gestures pounded against one another.

"Liar?" the man asked amusedly. His voice was silky and deceptively innocuous. "What do you mean by that? I don't ever recall lying."

Cecilia's face was distorted with anger. She twisted her mouth into an odd smile, and despite himself, the man winced uncomfortably.

"You have no idea," Cecilia breathed, "how much I wish to hurt you right now!"

She hid her face between the gloved palms of her hands and wept drily, bitterly. The man made an awkward step toward her but then backed away, allowing Beaux and Meliah to get a clear view of his thin, somewhat angular features.

Meliah and Beaux gasped simultaneously.

"Lord Eas!" Meliah exclaimed. Beaux was too surprised to admonish Meliah for her sudden outburst. _What had Cecilia conspired with Lord Eas? _He pondered excitedly.

"Cecilia," Lord Eas consoled, "You are too pessimistic. I promised you my help, did I not?"

"Oh, don't toy with me!" Cecilia cried - her face slick with tears, "This is not help! This is a death wish! And you knew it from the beginning you sick ba-"

Lord Eas placed a cold finger on the tip of Cecilia's scarlet mouth. She looked as though she could spit upon his alabaster skin. "A young lady mustn't use such vulgar language."

"Shut up! Shut up!" Cecilia snapped madly. She turned on her heel and sprayed an angry storm of snow into the air. "We're leaving this Godda-"

"Shhh," crooned Lord Eas. "I will not let you slip away so easily. I have offered you a way to spare your precious cousin. And I will adhere to it. You as well, have given me your word."

An unexpected burst of laughter quickly evaporated Lord Eas's smug smile. Cecilia laughed until the air rung with her strange, perverse glee.

"You still expect me to believe you? No vampire can stop himself from killing. And you, Yvan, are no exception!"

"Cecilia," Lord Eas murmured as though scolding a child, "Cecilia, Cecilia, Cecilia." He clicked his tongue between each pause. He moved very close to her, and for a brief moment, Cecilia was afraid of his calm, composed manner. "You know how much our bargain means to me. And if I must crush my jaw to stop myself from devouring that _thing_ completely, then yes, (_yes_, dear) I will."

"You are selfish," Cecilia merely responded. Her eyes glowered.

"And what will you do about it?" he whispered.

"I will deny you my heart. I can live my entire life despising you."

"Aah," Lord Eas sighed in mock wonder, "Is that so? You will find, Miss Mansart, that I'm a very persuasive individual." He pressed his arm unto hers and then proceeded to pull her reluctant hands against his pallid cheek.

"Ha! I shall dare you to attempt whatever you may!" she taunted.

"You agreed to this didn't you?" Lord Eas responded. Cecilia's mouth opened and shut wordlessly like a fish gasping for air.

Her tough façade was broken. She looked at Lord Eas pleadingly, "You promise? You shan't kill her? Please, if she does not survive, Beaux, he – he will…"

Her voice cracked and faded. She struggled to keep her eyes from forming more tears.

"I swear dearest Cecilia, that I will not kill her. And to let the two of them live what is left of their wretched lives. Meanwhile, you owe me-"

"I know!" Cecilia injected. Her eyes were squeezed tight in dread.

"Good girl," Lord Eas murmured. He kissed her hand and led her back into the Great Hall.

"What does she owe him?" Meliah asked aloud.

Beaux tore his eyes from their ebbing shadows and looked at Meliah's perplexed stare.

"I don't know," he admitted softly.

"They are talking about me." It was not a question.

"Yes."

"Am I to go to that man?"

"Of course not!" Beaux cried.

"I don't think there is another way," Meliah murmured. "I will go to Miss Mansart and ask her what she means-"

"I don't trust these vampires," Beaux spat angrily. He pulled Meliah into his arms in a warm but overly forceful embrace. "But _you_ must believe in me. You do, don't you?"

Meliah looked at him with liquid eyes; then she pressed her head against his chest. "Yes. I trust you with my life," she answered. "I always have, Beaux."

"Promise me not to meddle in this?" Beaux begged. "Do not, under any circumstance, approach Lord Eas without me."

"Beaux-" Meliah began. She turned briefly away from his searching eyes and Beaux could feel her reluctance.

"Do I have you word Meliah?" Beaux demanded.

Meliah sighed discontentedly. "Yes."


	30. Chapter 30: Arrest

Chapter 30: Arrest

"Sleep," Meliah urged gently. She drew Beaux toward the bedroom and opened the door encouragingly. Beaux pulled away brusquely; Meliah looked at him in mute surprise.

"I'm not tired," he said, attempting to avoid eye contact. His green irises flickered from behind his lashes until the light from the dim candles fractured into tiny pieces around his pupils. Meliah lifted an eyebrow and shook her head incredulously.

"You must be," she insisted. Meliah's hands tightened upon his wrist, forcing Beaux to look at her in earnest. "Sleep," she whispered again, the word brushed her lips like feathers. Beaux was tempted to kiss her then, to set aside their worries and commit to their love, and love alone.

But Beaux's eyes locked unto hers until he felt his pupils would be set aflame in their wearied sockets. He was exhausted, yet every muscle in his body was pounding to keep him alert. Meliah's pleas were almost mocking with their calmness and sincerity. Beaux was suddenly seized by the shrill desire to shred her confidence, simply to prove he could resist.

"I know you need more rest than anyone else," Meliah said firmly, "You have not had a wink since we've left my home."

"And whose fault would that be? Since I was being held captive by your bloodlust!" Beaux snapped. He knew he was committing a dreadful, regretful error, yet his actions seemed to supersede his conscience. "You drank every dreary night until I could feel my arteries contracting at the mere sight of the sunset! You drained every ounce of me – my resolve, my dignity! Not just with your hunger but your perverse tendency to think naught of others but yourself!"

Meliah's tranquil smile dissipated and was replaced with an expression of horror. "Oh Beaux!" she cried. Beaux's heart imploded as her thick tears clung the pink rims of her ebony eyes. Meliah choked in disappointment and woe.

"No," Beaux's voice was feeble. He could have kicked himself. "No, that's not what I meant. By bloodlust I meant…"

"I'm sure! I've had enough! What is the truth Beaux? Be honest. You tell me you love me. You tell me you have not changed, that you will continue to love me even when I am possessed by this – this bloodlust as you call it! And I've never once blamed you! Even when we both knew _what_ turned me into this! YOU! YOU DID THIS! Because of your selfish desires to have me! You're no more self-abnegating than I am!" Meliah was screaming now in rage and deceit. She gasped and hiccupped uncontrollably until she was forced to cling to the walls for support.

Dejectedly, Beaux looked to the floor. The patterns in the tiles seem to spell his defeat. "I have nothing to say. I deserve this. You're absolutely, indisputably correct," Beaux sighed. He traced the lines between each tile with the tip of his shoe. "Expect for the part about this supposed loss of affection. I'm still and forever will be yours."

Yet when Beaux raised his head (hopefully to see a sympathetic face), he realized that Meliah was no longer there.

Beaux felt his breath stop short as his lungs pumped furiously to keep himself steady. "Meliah?" he called quietly. He would have dared to call again had it not been for the small voice at the back of his head, telling him quite ardently that it was futile.

There had been no footsteps to indicate her flight or a noise to betray the presence of an unexpected intruder. Beaux was at loss for words. _What on earth was going on?_

His feet were carrying him up the stairs and down again. He turned to check the second floor once more when he heard Meliah's muffled cry coming from outside. Beaux rushed toward the door, but before he could thrust himself into the frosty night, he found Cecilia at his feet, clutching desperately, childishly to his legs and begging him to stop.

"Stop Beaux! Don't go!" Cecilia cried. She pressed her face against his calves and wept, but her grip did not slacken. She trembled.

"What is the meaning of this?" Beaux bellowed.

"You can't! You mustn't!" she insisted.

Beaux tried to pull his legs from her grasp, yet she appeared to have rooted herself to the floorboards. Without hurting his cousin, Beaux could not leave free.

Instead, he bent down, pleading. "Cecilia," Beaux murmured softly, "You must let me go. Meliah may be in peril. We can't have that, can we?"

Cecilia's eyes met his and Beaux saw fear and desperation. She shook her head repetitively, "Listen Beaux. Listen! You need to trust me. You can't go! Stay here! She'll be back."

Yet despite her stiff façade, she did not seem convinced by her own words. She gulped and began breathing faster, harder.

"You are scheming something. I heard you. You and Lord Eas are planning to do something terrible to Meliah. Let me go, Cecilia."

Cecilia's copper eyes burned crimson. "If you wish to go, you will have to kill me first!"

Beaux gaped. He could not believe what he was hearing: Cecilia giving him this ultimatum. _What was going on?_

"Cecilia!" Beaux snapped. "I will not ask you again! Let me go! Or for heaven's sake, tell me what is happening!"

"I can't. You'll see."

"CECILIA! This is ridiculous! _Goddamnit_! What do you expect me to do?"

"Please, Beaux, no questions. Not now."

Cecilia's gaze melted as thick drops of tears began making a clear trail down her pallid cheeks.

"Oh my God," Beaux hissed. "You've done it! You've bargained with the Goddamn Satan on earth. You sacrificed, you would dare, you-you… You let him take her?"

Beaux felt his knees buckling as though his mass had multiplied to an unsupportable figure.

"Beaux we don't have another choice!"

"Shut up!" Beaux shouted. He looked at her broken expression and sighed furiously. "I don't know you anymore. And _apparently_, you don't know me either!"

Then with a shove, he untangled himself from her arms and left.

He raced through the courtyard. He could nearly sense her. In fact, the air was permeated by the scent of her adrenaline and the thumping of his heart.

How long had he been arguing with Cecilia?

There was a fresh pair of tracks, grey in the white snow. Beaux expected to see the footsteps smear with traces of Meliah's protest, but the prints were distinct, precise, and - his lungs contracted at the thought- voluntary.

He found that the tracks led him to the back of the Great Hall. And his heart broke when he saw Lord Eas, gently coaxing Meliah's thick blood from two large, deep, scarlet punctures on her white throat, crouched over Meliah's body. She was leaned uncomfortably against the side of the building and Beaux nearly stumbled upon seeing the torn flesh of Meliah's neck, the veins pulsating furiously and yet feebly as well.

Lord Eas stopped drinking abruptly when he heard Beaux's approach. He looked at Beaux with a grave expression, no sign of amusement or content, as though the very act of consuming human blood was a chore. Nevertheless, Lord Eas licked his lips and stood up. Meliah gasped at the break of contact and opened her eyes lethargically.

"Are you finished?" she asked softly. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Yes," Lord Eas replied tersely.

Meliah sighed contently and fainted. Beaux rushed over toward her and began pleading with her unconscious body, begging her to wake.

"What have you done?!" Beaux shouted at Lord Eas. He lunged forward without thinking twice and forced Lord Eas to fall backwards unto the snow-covered ground. Beaux was beyond anger or fury, he wanted to destroy and kill – utterly.

Lord Eas did not appear to have the strength to repel Beaux. His eyes were fighting to stay open and before him, Beaux was nothing more than a blur. Beaux struck Lord Eas face and the sound was that of crunching bone. But before Beaux could attack at his victim's unprotected throat, he felt a strong hand pry him from Lord Eas.

At first, Beaux was bewildered and speechless. He whirled around to run head first into Vincent, whose brilliant eyes seem to burn from under his lashes.

Behind Vincent, he saw Louis and Cecilia, equally shocked by Beaux's disheveled, hatred-consumed appearance. Louis, however, was the first of the two to recover. He went to Meliah and pulled her on his back, disappearing past the Great Hall. Cecilia walked timidly to Lord Eas, who despite what had been inflicted on his face, looked merely unconscious. She took his pulse and then proceeded to alert the medics.

Vincent looked at Beaux quietly before beginning. "Control," he murmured, "is crucial."

Beaux glared. "And to _what_?" he spat, sarcastically, "Do I owe this pleasure?"

"A human, once bitten, is not capable to being bitten once more without dire consequences. You understand, son, that though before, Meliah may have been a vampire's delectable treat, she is like poison now. Be grateful that Lord Eas would dare intake such blood," Vincent spoke quickly.

"I supposed Lord Eas doesn't have any personal reasons for doing so?" Beaux retorted. He now realized why Lord Eas had been so vulnerable, and deep within the pit of his stomach, he could feel his intestines writhing with guilt.

"Of course," Vincent replied in that same monotone manner, "Cecilia has promised to marry him in return for his 'little' favor. Lord Eas has been in pursuit of your cousin since she was but your age. And I'm sure, the Mansart estate that she now processes would not be a horrible incentive to any aspiring nobleman."

"You mean to say," Beaux breathed.

"-that Cecilia, Louis, Meliah, and myself have risked our necks giving you what you want. Grow up son! You are so wrapped up in your selfish desires you have endangered everyone!" 

Beaux could no longer speak. What more was there to say? He had been wrong. He had judged and calculated and speculated until everything had become a distorted mess. Others were paying the price for his recklessness.

But Beaux's reverie was cut short, for a high whistle cut through the air like a spear. And in the distance, Beaux could see the figures of five or ten vampires in dark, grey-blue uniforms with gold trimmings racing toward them.

"See what you've done?" Vincent hissed. He turned to face the group, which stopped a yard or two away. One particularly tall vampire separated himself from the pack and stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Vincent.

"You must surrender the boy," the vampire demanded. His white skin gleamed against his white-blonde hair. It took Beaux several moments to understand that the "boy" he referred to was none other than himself. Vincent smiled coyly in return.

"And for what reason do you intend to charge him?" Vincent asked innocently.

"Assault of Lord Eas and creation of a demi-vampire," the vampire guard replied without hesitation. He looked at Vincent and perhaps sensed resistance for he added quickly, "I have been ordered to use force if he will not come quietly."

Vincent's smile faded. "Well then," he whispered. "You heard the man, Beaux, why don't you follow him?"

"What?" Beaux spluttered in surprise. Vincent merely inclined his head courteously in the direction of the guards and stepped aside, allowing the head vampire to grab Beaux by the arm. Beaux felt another vampire move behind him and slip a manacle on his left wrist.

"And where are we going?" Beaux asked casually, to disguise his unease.

"Prison, of course," someone answered him from behind.

"Prison?" Beaux asked in disbelief. No one seemed amused by his cluelessness.


End file.
